


Chasing the Aurora

by Elialys



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Donna Noble Remembers, Episode Fix-It: s04e13 Journey's End, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Newly Human, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-OT3, Slow Burn, Smut, Telepathic Bond, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy, Unresolved Sexual Tension, it's all about Rose :p, no tencest though, this is an eventual OT3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2021-03-31
Packaged: 2021-04-19 10:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 133,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elialys/pseuds/Elialys
Summary: ~*~ CHAPTER 25 POSTED ON 31/03/2021 ~*~Rose refuses to leave the TARDIS on Bad Wolf Bay, travelling back to her universe with the Doctors instead, where she hopes to resume the 'carefree' life of adventures they had before Canary Wharf.After years apart, and with two Doctors instead of one, that's easier said than done.
Relationships: Donna Noble & Rose Tyler, Metacrisis Tenth Doctor & Donna Noble, Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor & Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor/Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 1191
Kudos: 619





	1. Choices

**Author's Note:**

> **This story is T rated by default, but there are some mature/explicit chapters (much) further along the way. Any change in rating is always indicated at the start of a chapter whenever appropriate. **
> 
> ~~~  
I'm tackling quite the trope with that one, aren't I? What can I say, I am fearless (and in great need of distractions from RL). Also, I love Ten and Rose. I love Tentoo and Rose. But I haaaaate how lonely and miserable Ten ends up being at the end of Journey's End. So I'm fixing it.
> 
> This is not going to be a quick fix-it, though. Ten is, by default, quite miserable by the end of s4, and forcing him in this particular situation is already making him grumpy one chapter in. But he will get some loving if it kills me. So will Tentoo. And most importantly, so will Rose. 
> 
> I do plan on this being a proper 'they're travelling and having adventures' story. What happens during down time is entirely up to them, but I am aiming for OT3, here. Eventually. No Tencest, though. Sorry, just not my thing at all.
> 
> I'm taking quite a few liberties with the ending of Journey's End in this chapter. Which is more a prologue than anything else.

The Doctor did not look at any of them as he joined them around the console again.

“Just time for one last trip,” he said, his eyes darting to his counterpart. “Dårlig Ulv Stranden.”

Rose’s heart missed a beat at the name. “Bad Wolf Bay?” Her tone did little to convey the depth of her apprehension at the mere thought of that place. “You mean…back to the other universe?”

“We’ve only got minutes,” the Doctor answered flatly, having already looked away from the new Doctor, his eyes fixed on the screen, the Time rotor once more roaring into life.

“The walls between worlds are closing again, now that the Reality Bomb never happened,” Donna explained. “It's dimensional retroclosure. See, I really get that stuff now,” she added with pride and with a note of delight, exchanging a grin with the man who apparently ‘grew out of her’ – from what little Rose understood of the process.

“Bloody _Norway_?” Jackie exclaimed with a scowl. “You’ve got a bleeping spaceship that can move between dimensions and whatnot. What’s it to you, to go straight to London instead?”

“No can do,” the new Doctor answered. “We’re materialising there for a reason. It’s a weak spot, a place where the fabric between realities is particularly thin. Always has been. That’s why my projection ended up coming through on that beach when I – ” He stopped himself, glancing at the other Doctor. “When we…” He cleared his throat. “Anyway!”

“We could technically take you home, once we get to Norway,” the Doctor finished for him. “But Donna and I wouldn’t have enough time to get back to our universe. We’d end up trapped here.”

“What d'you mean ‘Donna and I’?” Rose asked, her uneasiness growing stronger by the second.

The TARDIS chose that exact moment to ‘land’, resulting in a familiar clumsy jolt that caused her to lose balance. Out of habit, it seemed, the new Doctor’s fingers closed around her upper arm as she stumbled sideways, keeping her from falling completely.

As soon as the shaking stopped, he released her. Although her body had reacted to his touch and sent a flurry of shivers down her spine, Rose did not acknowledge him at all, not consciously, her eyes fixed on the other Doctor instead – the Doctor she suspected was about to send her away.

Again.

“End of the line,” said Doctor announced in a low voice, purposefully ignoring Rose’s question, already walking towards the doors.

Everybody made to follow him…except for Rose, who remained near the console.

Jackie noticed it first, quickly backtracking to stand closer to her daughter, whose eyes were fixed on the back of the Doctor’s head.

“You can’t seriously expect me to go back there,” she stated, her voice more steady than she felt.

The Doctor slowly turned around, finally meeting her gaze as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’ve got to.”

Even though he sounded disheartened at the thought, there was a _finality_ in his voice that immediately turned her anxiety into frustration.

“Like hell I do,” Rose said fiercely, her cheeks warming up. “You don’t get to do that, dump me back on that beach.”

_The way he did all his other companions_, a nasty little voice whispered in her ear.

“I am not dumping…” he began, but he let that sentence die, looking away as he clenched his jaw. “You won’t be alone. _He_’s staying with you,” he said, indicating his ‘metacrisis’ self with a tilt of his chin.

“What?” she breathed out.

“He’s too dangerous to be left on his own,” was his only answer.

Rose did not even look at this other Doctor, her heart thumping under her ribs and against her ears, her face flushed, hating the characteristic prickling sensation in her eyes.

“You are such an _arse_.”

All eyes turned on Jackie, who had spoken the words. She’d moved closer to the Doctor in brown, who recoiled slightly at the look on her face.

“D’you have any idea how hard or how long she’s worked on that bloody cannon?” Jackie asked him, fuming. “I mean, we’re all grateful she did, we would’ve been done for when those stars started going out if she hadn’t, but she sure didn’t do it for the stars, not at first.”

“_Mum_,” Rose tried interrupting her, mortified by the scene – yet not exactly unfamiliar with her mother’s tendency to jump in and shout at people on her behalf or others’.

“Don’t you try and pretend it wasn’t all for ‘im, now,” Jackie snapped at her. “You know how I feel about you leaving, it’s not like I’ve been quiet about it. But what I feel or what I want don’t matter, not anymore. I’ve got my life. I’ve got Pete and Tony. It’s about time you get yours. So don’t you let any of those lanky boys make that choice for you.”

Rose’s throat had become too tight for her to be able to say anything in response to her mum’s honest words.

Thankfully, she could count on at least one of those ‘lanky boys’ to do it for her.

“This is not up for discussion,” the Doctor in brown declared, his voice even harsher than before, and clearly rushed, now. “Time’s running out, Rose, you must get out of this TARDIS.”

Rose crossed her arms, and the Doctor let out a noise of frustration, briefly grabbing at his hair before turning to his counterpart. “Now would be a good time for you to get involved.”

The new Doctor, who had been oddly silent for the last two minutes, looked from Rose to the other Doctor. “I have to agree with Jackie,” he stated in a low voice, and Jackie’s mouth actually slacked open a little. “The choice should be yours,” he told Rose.

“Ah, but you’re overlooking quite a few intricate variables here, Spaceboy,” Donna intervened. “Your judgment is obviously a tad skewed, probably all those tricksty human hormones I’ve passed on to you. Speaking of which, did you know there is a thirty-seven percent chance you might go through puberty in the next six months, zits and all? Ah! Absolutely bonkers that is! Bankers, blinkers, bunkers!”

Donna’s odd contribution was immediately followed by a low grinding, whooshing noise from the TARDIS itself.

“Time’s up,” the Doctor stated loudly, leaping to the doors in two quick strides, opening one of them wide, and Rose’s insides twisted at the sight of the beach beyond. “Everyone out. Everyone except Donna.”

No one moved.

“You _cannot_ stay here,” the Doctor told Rose; he looked crazed, almost furious, the way he had back on the Crucible.

“And you cannot force me away,” Rose replied quietly with a small shake of her head, her voice quivering. “Not this time. Not again.”

“Tick-tock, tickety tock!” Donna chimed in.

“You have got to go, the three of you!”

“’m not moving.”

“She just wants to stay with you, you plum! Stop being so thick and let her decide for herself, will you?”

“I’m sorry, Rose, I really am, but you just can’t.”

“Weeell, actually – ”

“_Do_ shut up.”

“Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock t-”

“Donna,” the new Doctor stopped her with a hand on her arm, and she fell silent, taking a ragged breath.

The TARDIS’ whinge was louder and more urgent this time, spurting Jackie into action. She went straight for her daughter, grabbing her face in her hands.

“Don’t you let them boss you around.”

“I won’t,” she told her mum in a thick voice, and Jackie released her face to wrap her in a quick, tight hug while behind them, at least two of the Doctors were back at the console, getting the next sequence ready, too pressed by time to keep arguing.

“Live your life, sweetheart,” Jackie whispered in her ear. “We love you, all three of us.”

“I know,” Rose half-choked against her shoulder. “I love you, too.”

“Jackie!” one of the Doctors shouted.

Jackie tore herself from her daughter and dashed through the open door without a look back.

As soon as her mother was out, the TARDIS came into life, their next jump through space and across dimensions even more tumultuous than the last, succeeding in sending Rose to the ground, this time.

None of the Doctors seemed to notice, too preoccupied with Donna, who’d also started to crumple before she was caught from both sides, words rushing out of her without a break as she did so.

“Tick tock, tick tock, I'm a little cuckoo clock, tick tock, tick tock, now it's one o'clock! I’m not even going to ask you two if you know that one. All of that knowledge in those giant brains of yours, and no one’s ever taken the time to teach you nursery rhymes! What a pity, a pitfall, a pitcher, a pitchfork, a pittance, a pituitary gland! That’s something you’ll have to look out for, now, Human Boy, that pituitary gland of yours is going to give you wrinkles, wrinkles, wrinkles, wrinkles, wrinkles, wrink – ”

The only thing that seemed to stop her was her instinctive need for oxygen, filling up her lungs in another harsh inhale, the sound as panicked as the look on her face, both Doctors still holding on to her, keeping her upright.

“What is wrong with her?” Rose asked in a husky voice, still sitting on the grating; she was too shellshocked by whatever was happening to Donna to have gotten herself up, yet.

The Doctor in brown looked away from Donna’s face to look down at Rose with a kind of glare that sent an unpleasant kind of shivers down her spine.

He did not speak to her at all, looking away and back at his counterpart instead.

“You must get her out of this room,” he spoke, his voice lower than she’d ever heard it. The new Doctor opened his mouth, probably to protest, but the Doctor stopped him: “I cannot do this with her watching!”

“_Her_ is standing right there,” Rose reminded him quite heatedly, finally back on her feet, and being rather fed up and hurt by the Doctor’s attitude, not to mention frightened and overwhelmed by the overall situation.

“Well you made it bloody clear you weren’t going to listen to anything I said!” the Doctor nothing short of _shouted_ at her, his eyes blazing, and Rose recoiled at his rage, pure shock taking over any other emotion.

“Now now,” Donna said, shrugging off both men’s grip before patting the Doctor’s cheek a couple of times, the gesture a bit too hard to be merely friendly. “To quote what was said to you not even five minutes ago, you are being an absolute _arse_ right now.”

As she finished her first real ‘sane’ sentence in quite some time, Donna turned to Rose. She looked shaken, pale and unwell, clearly in some kind of physical and psychological distress.

And yet, Donna being Donna, her next words were not about her own wellbeing at all.

“Better step out of this room, love. He’s right about that. There’s nothing you can do. It’ll just upset you.”

“What’s…” Rose breathed out, her heart pounding furiously in her chest, fighting a losing battle against her tears.

Donna shook her head with a sad smile. “Please?”

Rose, who was known in quite a few universes now for her stubbornness, caved in remarkably fast.

Maybe it was the contrast between the Doctor’s anguished fury and Donna’s sad resignation.

Maybe it was the new Doctor’s ashy complexion, or the sorrowful look on his face as he stared back at her, with a kind of vulnerability she’d only seen once on _this_ face.

(On a beach in Norway)

In the end, Rose chose to honour Donna’s wishes, and stepped out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hesitate to subscribe to this story if you're intrigued. I'm hoping to update regularly (as in, as much as RL allows me to write). I will start delving into ~feels next part.
> 
> Kudos and comments are the loveliest of gifts at this time of the year ♥


	2. Instincts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rather upset Rose finds her old room. Meanwhile, time is running out for Donna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am genuinely thrilled to be going on this writing journey with so many of you, thank you all for your support ♥
> 
> Another short chapter to encourage the sense of urgency (and also because I'm not going to have time to write anything for a good chunk of days because christmas); future chapters will definitely become longer once things settle down a bit.
> 
> A most heartfelt thank you to Giulia (who is single-handedly responsible for making me see the appeal of this OT3) for her help, support and story conversations.
> 
> Do excuse any oddities. I've got bilingual brain syndrome again. Hon hon hon.

**Chapter Two – Instincts **

Rose did not realise she’d followed a familiar path to what used to be her room, until she found herself standing in front of an even more familiar door.

She raised a trembling hand to the small inscription carved into the wood-like material in her own slanted handwriting, remembering a Doctor in leather shoving an odd looking pad into her hands on her very first morning spent on the TARDIS.

“_Go on then_,” he’d told her, slapping a list of sentences on top of the pad. “_Copy those down. The TARDIS will assimilate your handwriting and replicate it in case of emergencies. It’ll help you find your room, too, if it gets shuffled ‘round. That’ll happen quite a bit.”_

And indeed, the next time Rose had lost herself in the labyrinth of corridors after complying with the Doctor’s odd request, she’d found her name etched upon one of the doors – nowhere near where she’d last seen her room.

A much more recent memory flashed behind Rose’s eyes, remembering a skinnier Doctor running towards her full on, his face split in a grin of sheer happiness.

Rose let her fingers fall from the engraving as she leaned forward, resting her forehead upon the cool surface, hot tears trickling down her cheeks. She forced herself to breathe deep and slow, resisting the urge to simply break down and sob, her heart squeezing at the thought of that same Doctor trying to force her out of the TARDIS with another version of him, her insides twisting at the memory of his wrath.

She was too exhausted and overwhelmed to be able to cope with any of this, unable to reconcile the memory of her Doctor’s sprint in that deserted street with the man who’d shouted at her minutes ago and treated her like a hindrance.

She’d tried her best not to expect too much out of her insane race to find the Doctor, these passed few months, too pragmatic by now to allow herself to think that things would ever be the same, even if she found him.

And yet in all of her imaginings, she’d never once considered the possibility of him being this furious at her for wanting to come home.

Keeping control over her emotions became impossible when the thought of _home_ brought up the realisation that she’d left her family behind to come back here. All of them were lost to her in that other universe, now, the way the Doctor was for years.

A low current was travelling under her skin where her head rested against the door – another sensation from the past, feeling the sentient ship’s warmth and sense of welcoming. Rose brought her hand back against the door, pressing her tearstained cheek against it. The thought of actually opening that door and stepping back into the life she had four years ago was unbearable.

“I don’t suppose you can make it so all of my old stuff’s packed away, can you?” she whispered in between two irregular inhales.

What she got in response was a vague feeling of…encouragement.

That was good enough for Rose.

Taking a deeper, calming breath, she pushed herself off the door, and reached down for the knob.

…

As soon as Rose left the room, Donna’s rambling resumed.

“I thought we could try the planet Felspoon. Just because. What a good name, Felspoon! Apparently, it's got mountains that sway in the breeze. Mountains that move! Can you imagine?”

Before long, words were rushing out of her again, suggesting they should go meet Charlie Chaplin one moment, fighting to stop the broken string of words escaping her mouth the next.

So far, being a part human, part Time Lord hybrid had not been a particularly enjoyable experience for the Doctor.

He’d only been ‘alive’ for a couple of hours in this particular body, and these hours had been filled with high levels of stress, anxiety, and a bit too many ‘life or death’ situations.

To be fair, most of these things tended to be part of his daily life no matter his incarnation, but experiencing them in this particular body…Well.

That was something else.

He was uncomfortably aware of the way his single heart kept on thumping without any way for him to slow it down neither quickly nor efficiently. And although he doubted he was nearly as hormonal as Donna suggested, he was self-aware enough to know his perception and overall thinking _were_ somewhat altered by the chemicals rushing through his veins.

Not to even mention _Donna_’s influence on his thought and speech patterns, or on his reactions.

Two hours ago, he would have reacted quite similarly to the way his original self was reacting at the moment: over-thinking everything, ruminating over the consequences of Rose’s choice, calculating how many minutes and seconds Donna had left before the overload in her mind caused her to burn up and die.

While all these things still agglomerated in his aching brain, they did not feel…_substantial_ enough to be front and centre. He was too busy thinking about Rose’s face as she exited the control room, too busy forcing himself _not_ to go find her, too busy trying to quell the panic spreading like poison through his chest at the thought of what was going to happen to Donna.

No matter what, he could not shut out the conversation currently taking place between the other Doctor and his metacrisis twin.

“There’s never been a human Time Lord metacrisis before now. And you know why.”

“Because there can’t be.”

The next silence was unbearable.

“I’m sorry.” All of the anger his original self had shown only a minute ago seemed to have drained out of him, to be replaced with sad resignation. “I’m so sorry.”

Donna’s bravado had drained out of her, too, her face constricted in anguish, not needing to be told what had to happen next to protect her.

“I want to stay,” she almost choked out.

And then, realising that she would not be able to sway the Time Lord’s mind, she turned to his more human counterpart.

“Please. Don’t let him do this.”

Two hours ago, the Doctor would have shaken his head and apologised, too. Two hours ago, his throat wouldn’t have tightened the way it did now, a pang of pain twisting his insides at the pleading look in Donna’s eyes.

“You’re dying, Donna,” he told her quietly, not quietly enough to conceal the catch in his voice. “All that knowledge…it’s killing you.”

“Then _let_ it,” she told him almost fiercely, grabbing at both his arms, in both support and emphasis. “Don’t make me go back. _Please_. I can’t go back to who I was. I just can’t.”

Hearing her say that she would rather _die_ than lose the person she had become was a shock so profound that he briefly stopped breathing, shaken to his very core by the intensity of her fear, all the while _understanding _it.

Not only was it written in her eyes and all over her face, but it was in his head, too.

How lost she’d been, before they were brought together. How meaningless her life had seemed to her. How worthless she thought herself to be.

Travelling with him had given her the courage to…find herself. To become someone.

The most important woman in the universe.

“Donna.”

His counterpart’s voice drew Donna’s eyes away from the Doctor, looking back at the other man, shaking her head. “Please,” she whispered, half-standing behind her twin, now, as if he was going to protect her.

Which, obviously, was exactly what he was going to do.

“Felspoon!” he suddenly heard himself saying – or rather, _shouting_, his distressed mind suddenly filled with certainty.

Both Donna and his original self stared at him, and the look on the other Doctor’s face was telling enough.

“I’m not losing my mind,” he told him at once – although it did feel like it, just a little bit; the harder he tried focusing on Felspoon, the less he could remember _anything_ about it. “I don’t think you telling us to go to Felspoon was random at all, Donna," he continued in a rush. "Out of the few hundred thousand planet names you now have stored in there, why this one? It has to be that gut instinct of yours again, thinking up solutions we would never think about. Blimey we’re being so blind again!” he exclaimed, grabbing at his hair.

“You’re not making any sense, and you're grasping at straws,” the other Doctor almost snapped, irritation quickly taking over his resignation again. “There is nothing special about Felspoon.”

“_Think_!” he shouted again, already dashing to the console to enter new coordinates. “If it’s in her head, it’s in yours! My own brain is all kind of muddled up at the moment, not really reliable at all, and Donna’s is…well. But yours! Yours is fully functional!”

The original Doctor’s eyes were just starting to glaze over as he actually thought about what he was being told, when Donna let out a groan of pain, and collapsed against him, unconscious. The Time Lord grabbed her just in time to prevent a hard fall, lowering himself down to the ground with her a lot more gently.

“Don’t!” the Doctor shouted at his original self as he reached for her head.

“If I don’t do anything, she’ll be dead in the next two minutes!” his original self snarled back. The way he gently grabbed Donna’s head to move it more securely onto his lap contrasted with the crazed look on his face. “The memories have to go!”

“Put her into a coma, then!” the Doctor almost ordered him, refocusing on the console to finish what he started. “Confine the memories to a corner of her mind and keep them locked there, don’t erase them!”

“That is not a viable option, I should _not_ have to explain this to you!”

“But it’ll buy her time!” the Doctor insisted as he pulled more levers and finished entering coordinates in a flurry. “Look, I know it sounds absolutely mad, but it wouldn't be the first mad thing that we did. This is _Donna_. We owe her that much.”

His original self had already established the connection, his fingers on Donna’s temples, his eyes slightly blurred as he stared at him without seeing him at all. “What makes you so sure there’ll be anything for her out there?”

The new Doctor pressed one last button, initialising the next dematerialising sequence.

“Call it human instincts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated with myself for quite some time about Donna's fate in this story. If you've read some of my other DW stuff, you may have noticed that I love her. SO MUCH. Of course I'm going down that road. Off to Felspoon we go, then!
> 
> Feedback of any kind is, as always, lovely and much appreciated ♥ 
> 
> Happy holidays, guys. Be kind to yourself and to others *smooches*


	3. New Worlds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctors and Rose seek help for Donna on a new world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so much for your support and encouragements ♥ Enjoy the fast updates while they last LOL

**Chapter Three – New Worlds**

The Doctor could not begin to understand his counterpart’s enthusiasm about Felspoon, nor his desire to go _there_ of all places. But he could not in good conscience ignore his argument either.

_This is Donna_.

Locating the defective memories inside her mind was not a difficult task.

The moment he created a link between their minds, they appeared to him like a throbbing inflammation, her psyche reacting to them the way any immune system would react to foreign tissue. In essence, the knowledge she’d inherited from the impromptu metacrisis was being rejected, as one would reject a transplanted organ.

The main problem was that those memories had become so tightly bonded with her own memories of her time spent with him that he could not simply remove the infection; removing one meant removing the other, there was no way around it. Except…

_“Confine the memories to a corner of her mind and keep them locked there_,” his more human counterpart had suggested.

The Doctor did just that, albeit rather reluctantly. Given the state of Donna’s mind, his handy work and the comatose state he was putting her in would buy her days, but not much more. She would have a week, at most.

The infection would win over, eventually, spreading and eating away at his defences like a cancer.

When it did, it would consume her entire mind within moments, the way fire burnt through paper. The longer he waited to extract the hostile memories, the more difficult it would be.

The more of her he would have to erase and kill.

“If she dies, her death will be on you.”

He said these words in a voice that sounded nothing like his own as he escaped Donna’s fragmented mind, finding himself still on the ground with her head on his lap. His metacrisis self was still tapping away at the console, seemingly unperturbed by the Doctor’s allegations.

He recognised the signs well enough, though, watching as his counterpart swallowed hard.

“That’s another death I’m willing to take responsibility for,” he said in an equally low voice. “ At least I’ll be able to say we tried giving her a chance.”

There was a familiar, rough jolt as the ship landed, reminding the Doctor of _where_ his counterpart was actually sending them. He wasn’t exactly optimistic, nor was he in any way okay with the whole situation, but he had to admit that this was…odd. He prided himself for his thorough knowledge of the universe, and yet, while the name _Felspoon_ felt familiar and did bring up images of swaying mountains, it all felt…hazy, almost unsubstantial, as if his own mind was being stirred away.

That alone was suspicious enough to make him curious.

Now that they had landed, the Doctor expected his counterpart to go one of two ways, either towards the doors to take a peek outside, or towards himself and Donna, to give him a hand.

He went for a third, unexpected route instead, making to leave the control room altogether, towards the bowel of his ship.

“Where are you going?” the Doctor asked, or rather barked at him again.

The other Doctor stopped in his tracks, looking back at him with something resembling a glower, both of them knowing _exactly_ where he meant to go; their ‘separation’ in two individual bodies was recent enough for their thought patterns to be mirroring each other still.

“She is not coming,” the Time Lord told him, indisputably.

The other him clenched his jaws. “I can’t decide who you’re trying to punish by behaving the way you are. Her, or just yourself.”

His anger spiked again, narrowing his vision and making him uncomfortably aware of his two thumping hearts.

“This is not about punishment and you know it,” he retorted, tersely. “You were supposed to stay in that other universe with her. It was the best option for everybody. Your lack of support on the matter definitely makes _this_ entire mess your responsibility.”

“I’d say me choosing to stay here’s pretty much on me, actually.”

Although the Doctor knew she was onboard with them, hearing Rose’s voice after spending so many years deprived of it was a shock to his system.

He was way too irrational and livid to let himself feel the wave of relief that _begged_ to be felt, especially when he turned to look at her, the sight of her as surreal, beautiful and disquieting as the sound of her voice had been.

She’d done something with her hair, putting it all up in a messy bun the way she used to. Even from a distance, her eyes looked swollen and red, another look he was unfortunately too familiar with.

Instead of taking a few moments to try and calm himself down, to maybe find that missing rational self of his, he latched onto his frustration – because _surely_ if he got nasty enough, she would come to realise what a mistake this was.

“Why are you here?” he asked her coldly.

Judging by the flash of pain that crossed her face, he was succeeding brilliantly.

She composed herself remarkably quickly, masking her hurt and making herself stand straighter as she answered flatly with a stiff shrug of her shoulders: “I felt us landing.” Her face and tone were not as emotionless as she looked down at Donna. “What’s wrong with her?”

His new self answered for him: “Her mind’s not coping with the metacrisis. We’re hoping to find help for her, here.”

He’d spoken to her much more kindly than the Doctor would have; he watched as Rose raised her eyes to look at his more human counterpart. She looked almost taken aback by his lack of animosity, her tense features softening.

A couple of seconds passed in complete silence, and she did not look away.

“You are not coming,” the Doctor declared, then, trying to push down the aching feeling that squeezed at both his hearts at once. His cold statement succeeded in drawing her gaze back to him, her face closing up again. “We don’t know what we’re going to find out there,” he continued, just as flatly. “I can’t afford to worry about you, too.”

While most of the things he’d said and done so far had obviously hurt her, this particular statement _incensed_ her.

The way she held herself and almost sneered was a little too reminiscent of her mother. “This thing you’re doing, thinking you can make decisions for me? It stops right now.”

Although her voice was low and composed, it quivered with barely contained anger.

“I’ve grown way passed the need to prove myself to you,” she continued. “So I’m not gonna waste my breath or Donna’s time listing all the stuff I’ve managed on my own these past four years. But ‘m not gonna stand here either and let you insult me or my ability to take care of myself in a potentially hostile environment. So _yeah_, I’m going out there. And if you really can’t handle the thought of being near me, that’s fine, too. There are two of you, now, and you made it pretty clear earlier that you would rather I stuck with him anyway. So you can always just stay here and sulk, while we go find help for Donna. _That_ choice is all yours, Doctor.”

…

The look on the Doctor’s face as she finished her tirade was both satisfying and heart-breaking.

She felt good for putting him back in his place the way she should have fifteen minutes ago when he nothing short of sent her to her room like a misbehaving child, but she sure didn’t feel good when his entire demeanour went from ‘barely contained fury’ to sheer numbness in the blink of an eye.

He did not look at her as he made to stand back up, taking Donna along with him.

When his counterpart made to come help him, his curt “_Don’t_,” was enough to stop him. Rose had almost forgotten how despite his rather skinny frame, the Doctor was actually quite strong, soon up on both his feet with Donna in his arms.

“Let’s go,” he said firmly, looking straight ahead.

The other Doctor led the way, opening the door and letting him step out first. As Rose walked closer, she couldn’t help but stare at that new Doctor again, aware that she hadn’t properly acknowledged him at all until now – they’d yet to properly _talk_ to each other. All she really knew so far was that he seemed a lot less reluctant to having her around.

They couldn’t delve into a serious conversation right now either, not when she was about to set foot on her first alien world in years. The adrenaline released by her tired brain was chasing her exhaustion away as she walked through the door, forgetting some of the aches that came as a result from her various jumps between realities.

Rose could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times she’d visited a planet that felt properly ‘alien’, from the odd colour of their skies to their landscapes, all of which had been rather spooky and uninviting.

_“That’s because the TARDIS knows to take us to planets that have an atmosphere similar to your world, or mine,” _he’d once explained when she’d pointed out this phenomena to him. “_It also accounts for the prevalence of humanoid races we meet in our travels. I could take you to really atypical places more often, but the risk of death by asphyxiation or sudden downpour of acid rain is a tad too high. Better stick to mildly hostile environments.”_

At first glance, this planet was as Earth-like as most of the ones she’d discovered while travelling with him, stepping out onto lush green grass, a stream of clear water making its way down the sloping terrain.

It was the differences that never failed to make her heart thump in exhilaration, though, big or small.

Today, it was a rather big one, raising her head to look at the blueish sky, most of it filled with the blurry silhouette of a giant moon and its many rings. As Rose stared at this ethereal display, her throat closed up.

Things between her and the Doctor might be a lot more strained than she ever thought they would be, _this_ was why she made the choice that she’d made, too, everything in her tingling with wonder and excitement.

She startled a little when fingers lightly closed around her upper arm, a new wave of shivers running beneath her skin as she looked down from the giant moon above to meet the Doctor’s eyes, which were almost gentle with understanding.

“Better catch up,” he told her quietly, tilting his head downhill as he released her arm.

Rose realised that the other Doctor – the one in brown – had already gotten quite a head start, even with his arms full of unconscious Donna Noble, walking towards the nearest habitation, less than five hundred yards away.

“So what’s this place?” Rose asked the new Doctor as they began walking at a brisk pace, old habits making her itch to reach down and find his hand.

“Felspoon,” the Doctor answered, and Rose didn’t miss the strain in his voice. “I don’t know _why_ I took her here, which makes this world special in itself. It’s clearly inhabited by beings that are advanced enough to use tools and build an advanced form of housings. I should know more than I do.”

Before Rose could make some kind of remark about how this was good for him, being forced off his high horses every once in a while, she realised they’d come close enough to the other Doctor for him to hear their voices.

He’d stopped a few meters away from the main door, his body turned to glare at them. “My arms are full, in case you hadn’t noticed. One of you needs to knock on that d – ”

Before he could finish his sentence, the door opened from the inside, revealing the house’s inhabitant.

As if to confirm Rose’s earlier thoughts, she found herself staring at an individual who was clearly humanoid in nature – although main physical features such as amount of limbs or being a biped were as far as the resemblances went, compared to humans or Time Lords.

He – or she, Rose honestly couldn’t tell, were quite shorter than even she was, the top of their head barely reaching the Doctors’ waist. They wore a piece of white cloth that resembled the kind of robes she’d seen monks wear. Enough of their skin was visible to see that it was an intriguing shade of grey. While they did have two eyes, a nose and a mouth, they didn’t seem to have any earlobes; they also appeared to be (from what she could see) completely hairless.

They didn’t seem in any way worried nor surprised by the group’s presence at their door.

“You came earlier than I expected,” they spoke in a calm voice.

Glancing at both the Doctors, Rose was not surprised either by the similar looks of suspicion creasing their brows.

“Who are you?” the Doctor in brown asked.

“I am Oq’i,” the alien answered. “I am but one amongst the many people of Theihrath.”

Both Doctor exchanged another equally frowny look, before they went back to glaring at the small alien.

“I’m Rose,” she introduced herself, since both men were too busy scowling and being stunned by their unusual lack of knowledge. “These are…the Doctors. And this is Donna. She needs help.”

Oq’i nodded. “Yes, I am aware.”

“And how _exactly_ are you aware?” the Doctor in blue asked.

“One who reads the stars and time fluctuations can develop the ability to foresee some events,” Oq’i answered humbly.

As both Doctors opened their mouth at the same time, Rose decided to jump in first, having no doubt that what they were about to say would not be helpful in anyway.

“You know what’s wrong with her, then?” she asked Oq’i.

They nodded again, before taking a step closer to the Doctor in brown, raising a hand towards Donna’s head, although they were too far to be able to touch her.

Still, Rose got the impression that they could…feel her.

“Her mind is dying,” they said in that same, peaceful voice. “She took another’s memories. You seek help releasing those memories from her mind while preserving the person that she is.”

The Doctor in brown reacted to that, actually taking a small step back. While his deep frown hadn’t gone anywhere, the expression on his face was more surprised than suspicious, now.

“You’re telepathic,” he stated, sounding just as shocked as he looked.

Another nod. “So are you.” They tilted their head toward the new Doctor. “This one used to be as well, not long ago. That link is broken, now.”

The new Doctor’s glower faltered a little at this statement, turning into a grimace.

“Why am I not hearing you?” the original Doctor asked.

“I never initiate a telepathic bond without consent,” Oq’i answered. “It is also inconsiderate to communicate through thoughts when there are beings present that cannot take part in the conversation.”

While Rose could appreciate these values and principles, it didn’t actually tell them anything in regards to Donna and her fate.

“Can you help her, though?” she asked, since both Doctors were still busy either scowling or sulking.

Another slow tilt of the head, too vague to be a proper answer. “Help might come to anyone who is willing to seek it. Do bring her inside.”

When Oq’i went back into the small house, neither Doctors moved.

“I’ve never heard of a telepathic race named Theihrath,” the Doctor in brown stated.

“Me neither,” his counterpart said.

As the original Doctor stared at his metacrisis self, his scowl became deeper than it’d been at any point today. “I cannot believe you even felt the need to point that out. I'm almost offended by how ludicrous that is.”

“I suppose you would be,” the Doctor in blue immediately retorted, not even trying to conceal his sarcasm. “Any discrepancy in my core knowledge is, after all, a shortcoming on your part.”

“I beg to defer,” he was countered at once. “Being part human, you are by default more likely to forget perfectly good information I did pass on to you, when you’re not failing to retain new one altogether.”

Rose pinched the bridge of her nose. Her headache had somewhat faded with the excitement of being on a new planet, but the way these two seemed unable to go more than three minutes without bickering was successfully bringing it back.

“I hate to stop you in the middle of this impressive battle of wits, but you two are behaving like prats,” she told them in a tone of voice she’d learnt to use with her three-year-old brother. “Donna’s mind’s still dying. What d’you say you hold it off until we figure out if they can do anything for her, yeah? After that, we can all go back to making each other feel like crap.”

The disappointment and weariness in her voice did the trick, successfully shaming them into silence.

“Allons-y, then!” the Doctor in blue eventually declared, before leading the way inside the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next chapter will actually have interactions between Rose and the Doctor(s?) that should be a bit more positive :p 
> 
> Feedback is not mandatory, but it is always deeply appreciated ♥


	4. Tin, Copper and Bronze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As things slow down for a while, Rose and the Human Doctor get some time to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I was on school break all the time, guys. I love being able to write and edit every day to my shippy heart’s content *sigh* 
> 
> Here, have my favourite chapter so far! ;-)

**Chapter Four – Tin, Copper and Bronze**

The Doctor couldn’t do anything but watch as his counterpart carefully laid Donna down on what resembled a bed. As soon as he took a step back, Oq’i stepped forward, extending both their hands above Donna’s body, as if gathering information without needing any contact.

“Your species should be better known,” his original self stated warily, and the Doctor shared his distrust. Any lack of information about a species this advanced was suspicious in nature.

“We choose to remain that way,” Oq’i stated calmly. “Our planet is small, but many of us are scattered on its surface. We are collectively protecting it from becoming known.”

The Doctor frowned. “A telepathic field?” he asked, and Oq’i nodded. When the Doctor noticed the confused look on Rose’s face, he explained: “They’ve created some kind of…psychic energy field around this world. I suppose this is what makes Felspoon seem so uninteresting, or why it’s so quickly dismissed.”

Oq’i nodded again while Rose’s frown turned into honest surprise. “I didn’t realise stuff like that was even possible,” she admitted. “Sounds almost like magic to me.”

The Doctor thought back to the time he and Martha worked together to get billions of humans thinking his name at the same time through the psychic network the Master had created, and how it had virtually brought him back to life.

“There’s no magic here, only potent mind control,” the Doctor in brown stated a bit too curtly.

Even though he did not look at Rose as he said those words, she brought her gaze to him, her features constricting again in confusion and hurt at his ongoing animosity.

“We do not control,” Oq’i corrected. “We merely suggest. We seek peace and tranquillity. Allowing outsiders to settle onto our world would encourage chaos and conflict.”

The new Doctor couldn’t help but scowl at this narrowed-minded view. For all of this alien’s outer benevolence and calm, this was one of the most toxic kinds of xenophobia. As much as he struggled with the thought of being part-_human_, he would much rather inherit characteristics from a species that were curious and primarily tolerant than to have anything to do with…this.

“You’re powerful,” his counterpart stated, the distrust clear in his voice, now. “But you still haven’t told us if you can help our friend.”

Oq’i finally lowered their hands, and turned to face their group. “There might be a way,” they said. “Theihraths rely greatly on the fauna and its medical properties. I believe we can produce a concoction that should help with the unbinding, given I receive help from some of my people. However, there is an ingredient that must be collected which requires some trekking and a dose of courage.”

“Plenty of that in our party,” Rose said, a tad sardonically. “Just point the way.”

Oq’i shook their head. “Not at this moment. Many people have gone to the market in a nearby village. They shall not be back for half a day at least.”

“We can still get a head start on that ingredient, though,” Rose insisted.

Another slow shake of the head. “You need sleep,” they told her. “It has been nearly three rotations of your home planet since you last rested. You should also try to process the profound grief you are currently trying to keep hidden.”

Rose’s strained face became even paler at those words, and both Doctor turned similar glares on Oq’i.

“You said you didn’t enter anyone’s mind without consent,” the Doctor in brown said in a low voice, his tone almost threatening.

“A telepathic connection is unnecessary when one bears their emotions outwards the way this young human is. You,” he pointed at the original Doctor, “are the most guarded in this room, but you remain more obvious than you think. Your pain can only fester.” Oq’i looked at all three of them. “Communication is poor, between you. It does seem that staying on the place of water and sand might have been the better outcome for all involved.”

This seemed to be the last straw for Rose, who turned around and walked out of the house.

After a long silence, the Doctor in brown spoke again. “Take her back to the TARDIS,” he told the new Doctor in a tone that _demanded_ not to be questioned. “You two get some sleep. I’ll stay with Donna. Come and find me when Rose…” His voice faltered a little. “Come back when you’re rested.”

The Doctor _knew_ what his original self was doing, encouraging him to spend time with Rose on his own. He did not argue, too keen to join her to even try.

She’d only walked off a little, standing closer to the stream, arms folded across her chest, her gaze lost in the distance. He came to stand beside her, quite unable to look away from her face, his insides squeezing at the pain in her eyes.

“Are those mountains…moving a bit?” she asked, wearily.

The Doctor finally dragged his gaze away from her tired features to look at the mountains, far off in the distance, which indeed seemed to be swaying a little, as if blown by a breeze.

He nodded, before remembering she wasn’t looking at him. “They only look like they’re moving,” he said. “Probably a result from whatever…psychic field Oq’i and their people are putting over this whole place. That kind of mental suggestion can lead to some strange audio-visual hallucinations.”

“So ‘m like…tripping?” Rose asked, and when the Doctor looked back down at her, he noted the shadow of a smirk on her lips, her eyes still on the swaying mountains.

He also noted the deep shadows under those eyes, eyes that remained redder than they should be.

“You’re exhausted,” he said quietly. “And a tired mind is more susceptible to suggestions. I can’t say I trust Oq’i, or what they’re saying, but they are at least right about you needing rest, especially if you really haven’t slept in three days.”

There was another pause. “I napped,” she protested weakly. “Maybe. It’s all a bit…foggy. ‘s been a long week.”

“Let’s go back to the TARDIS,” he insisted. “He…the Doctor, he’s going to stay here with Donna. To be quite honest, I could use some sleep myself.”

Rose’s gaze finally moved away from the view. She didn’t look at him at all, though, shifting her body to look back at the house, and the Doctor’s single heart squeezed again. He was a little too aware of the fact that, whatever he might say or do, it did not matter at the moment. He remained an unknown entity to her.

He did not need to read minds or auras to know that she still thought of _him_ as the ‘proper Doctor’.

And the more _he_ tried sending her away, the more fiercely she would try reaching out, because that’s what Rose Tyler did.

“You won’t get anything from him,” the Doctor told her quietly, as kindly as he could. “Not today.”

Rose briefly glanced up at him, long enough for him to see the unshed tears in her eyes. She quickly looked away, swallowing hard as she held herself tight.

“Let’s go, then,” she breathed out, before setting off towards the TARDIS, her pace brisk, showing no sign of wanting him to catch up and walk beside her.

He gave her space, walking but a step behind her.

…

Rose did not cope any better with being in her room than she did on her first try, earlier today.

When she’d first entered it, she’d gone straight for the en suite bathroom to clean off her face and do something with hair that was getting a bit too dirty for her liking. She’d seen enough to know the TARDIS had heard her request, though, all of her belongings nowhere to be seen.

The large bed was made with linens she did not recognise, and every surface in the room was cleaner than she remembered ever seeing it – she’d gotten a reputation with the Doctor for being a bit of a slob. None of the personal items she’d brought onboard years ago could be found where she’d last seen them either.

After having bided the new Doctor a quiet and slightly awkward ‘good night’ despite the bright daylight outside, Rose went back to her room, numbed and exhausted, yet doubting she would be able to get much sleep at all.

Despite her reluctance to wear anything she used to wear ‘back then’, she still needed to find something to put on for when she was done showering. She opened the closet that used to be full of clothes, finding the shelves and hangers as empty as her dresser. There were, however, two boxes at the bottom, both clearly labelled with her name, once again in her own handwriting.

Unable not to, she cautiously opened one of them, hoping to find her pyjamas close to the top. Unfortunately, the first thing that came into view were framed photographs of her mother and herself.

Suddenly, Rose could not bear the thought of being in that room, shuffling through all these mementos from not one but _two_ lives she’d left behind, too overwhelmed to even find it in herself to cry again.

She ended up roaming the ship, tempted to go take a peek at all those rooms she’d missed for four years, like the library, or even the kitchen, wondering if any changes had been made to the gardens or the observatory while he travelled with other companions.

She found herself going down one of the spirally staircases to the ship’s main wardrobe, in the end; surely she would be able to find some kind of sleepwear in there.

She noticed him long before he noticed her – an oddity in itself.

He’d discarded of his blue jacket, and the sight of him in a simple brown t-shirt was…strange, although not entirely unpleasant. He had climbed over a big heap of discarded clothes, a few creased shirts and dangling ties thrown across his shoulder, one arm hooked around the railing of another staircase while his other arm was deep into a nook, obviously trying to reach for something.

“C’mon, now, I _know_ you used to keep some in there!” he complained, evidently to his ship.

Rose almost smiled at this blatant display of…Doctor-ism.

“Need a hand?” she asked from the bottom of her own staircase.

The new Doctor startled so strongly at the sound of her voice that he lost his footing on the precarious pile he stood on, ending up spinning a full one-hundred-and-eighty degrees as he held on to the railing above, until he was facing her, oblivious to the ties that had fallen from his shoulder.

His stunned look was quickly replaced by a grin so genuine and warm that Rose’s heart nearly skipped a beat. “Hello!” he exclaimed with obvious delight.

She couldn’t help it. She _had_ to smile back. “Hello,” she replied, a lot more quietly. “Fancy meeting you here.”

He released the railing, wobbling a little on the unsteady pile, before stepping down properly onto the ground. “Regenerations always come with a mandatory trip to the wardrobe,” he stated. “Well, this one’s a tad different, I suppose, since my tastes in clothes haven’t really changed that much. I need my own stuff, though. I’m assuming my grumpier self is going to be adamant about keeping everything, even though _technically_, it’s mine as much as it is his.”

At the mention of the other Doctor, Rose’s smile faltered, the heavy weight back in her stomach; in her search for distraction from the memories she was bound to find in her room, she’d momentarily forgotten about the other heartache she was trying to ignore…all caused by the hostility recently sent her way.

This new Doctor noticed her resurfacing pain, his own carefree demeanour shifting at once, leaning back heavily against the staircase.

“All those things he said…” he spoke quietly. “I feel like I should apologise for them. But I realise it wouldn’t mean much, coming from me.”

None of them missed the irony in this.

Rose nibbled on the inside of her lip. “’s nice of you to offer, though,” she said in a weak, disheartened voice.

She was too bone-tired to remain on her feet, lowering herself onto the steps behind her, taking her head in her hands.

“Maybe we should’ve stayed on that beach,” she heard herself saying to her knees, even if the mere thought of it made her queasy with unease.

He was quiet for a few seconds. “Maybe,” he said. “If that’s what you wanted.” A pause. “Is it what you wanted?”

Rose shook her head, dropping her hands on her lap, raising her head to look at him, leaning against his staircase, a few shirts and ties still draped over him.

“This ship, the stars…” she whispered. “This is where I wanna be.”

He tilted his head down, slowly. “Then no. We should not have stayed on that beach.”

Rose swallowed passed the lump in her throat. “He doesn’t want us here, though,” she managed to articulate. “‘specially not me…”

He pushed himself off the railing, dropping shirts and ties onto the floor as he walked closer to her to come sit down at her feet, leaning back against a wooden chest that was spewing out outfits, his long legs extended in front of him, crossed at the ankles.

“It’s not about not wanting you here,” he spoke quietly once he’d settled down. “It’s more about…_this_, you and me, being on the TARDIS with him…” He shook his head a little. “It’s the opposite of what he’d planned for us.”

With an elbow on her knee and a hand up to the side of her head, Rose began fidgeting with a strand of hair that had escaped her messy bun. “Doesn’t really make me feel any better,” she said weakly. “He still planned on me _not _being here with him.”

The new Doctor grimaced a little. “Well, no. He’d actually planned on you being…with me.”

She stopped her fidgeting, maintaining eye-contact. “Why, though?” she asked, oddly breathless. “What makes you so different from him?”

From everything she’d seen and especially _felt_ so far, this version of the Doctor was essentially identical to the one who refused to even look at her, in every way that mattered.

He brought a hand to the back of his head to ruffle his hair. “No one’s really taken the time to explain this ‘metacrisis’ thing to you, eh?”

“No, they haven’t,” she confirmed tiredly. “I get the gist of it, though, I think. You’re…you came from that…_hand_, yeah? The one he poured all of his energy into? And Donna’s obviously got something to do with it.”

“She does,” he said. “She touched the jar. As simple as that. Triggered the regeneration process that allowed this body to grow, with a bit of a twist – that’s the metacrisis. Donna’s DNA was necessary for it to work, so it could bind with the pre-existing DNA already in that hand.” He actually wiggled the fingers of his right hand as he spoke.

“So you’re…part Donna?” Rose inquired.

He scrunched up his face a little, his special hand now up between them, squeezing something invisible and tiny between his finger and thumb. “_Just_ a smidge,” he stated. “Not enough for me to inherit the ginger hair, obviously.”

Rose’s lips quivered, their corners pulling in the smallest of smiles at this call back to one of their very first ‘conversations’ after his last regeneration.

“What did you get from her, then?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Well,” he said with a tilt of his head so sharp it looked more like a sweep, and from his tone alone, Rose knew he was about to ramble. “What’s in a person’s DNA, really? When you think about it objectively, most offspring that come to be from two distinct organisms will inherit an equal amount of genes from their biological parents. But the prevalence of active genes from one compared to the other is far from being equal. It all comes down to dominant versus recessive alleles. So one _might_ possess the ginger gene in every single one of their trillions of cells, and yet still end up with brown hair, time and time again.”

Rose tilted her head upon the palm of her hand, easily ignoring his deflective rambling. “Are you human?” she asked softly, and he scratched the back of his head again, his cheeks turning a light pink. “Something _he_ said earlier,” she continued. “About you being part-human or something.”

“I did inherit some human traits,” he admitted with unmistakable hesitation, not looking at her anymore. “But it doesn’t mean that I…” He stopped, before turning his head to meet her eyes again. “Are you familiar with alloys?”

Rose frowned. “You mean like, metal stuff?”

“I mean exactly like metal stuff,” he replied. “Alloys are composites, typically the results of two metals put together. Depending on which metals are used and in what amount, you end up with an alloy that has its own characteristics, yet it always retains most of the original properties. Take bronze, for example. It’s made by mixing copper and tin, but only about twelve percent of tin. So bronze ends up being very similar to copper, while having its own…uniqueness.”

Rose observed him. “So, in this scenario, if the Doctor is copper and Donna is tin, that makes you…”

“Bronze,” he concluded.

She made a small, thoughtful noise, letting him know she actually understood most of his analogy, even with her brain being in its current state of exhaustion.

“What does twelve percent of tin means for you, though?” She asked.

She was grateful that he decided _not_ to ramble about the actual properties of bronze.

“It does mean I’m part human,” he reiterated. “But I’m still…me. Or him. I look like him and I think like him. Same memories, same thoughts, same everything. Except that I’ve lost a few…properties, I suppose. Like a heart.”

_That_ startled her.

“What?” she breathed out.

He half-shrugged. “Yep. Only got the one ticker, now. It’s been a bit weird.”

Rose instinctively unfolded her arms and leaned forward towards him, extending a hand to press her palm to the middle of his chest. It took her a few seconds, but she felt the faint beats of his heart.

Just the one.

“Whoa,” she whispered.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

The strain in his voice drew her gaze up to his face, meeting his eyes, focused and intense.

She came back to her senses almost with a jolt, taking her hand off him and leaning away, wrapping her arms around herself as her cheeks warmed up against her will.

“How’s it affecting you, having just the one heart?” she carried on with her questioning, her turn to deflect.

“Well, for one thing, it means that I’m dying,” he answered.

What little colour had risen in her cheeks was immediately drained.

“Sorry, that was a tad dramatic, although still true in essence,” he continued. “There won’t be any more regeneration for me. This is it, end of the line. I’m going to live however many years this decaying body has in it, and then…_voilà_.”

Rose took in this information, her own heart speeding up in her chest, her throat once more clenching painfully. She may be tired and emotional, she remained perceptive enough to put these puzzle pieces together. This Doctor did not just have a part-human body.

He had…a human _lifespan_.

“He wanted us to live a human life together,” she whispered, her eyes lost in the distance as she remembered the Doctor’s vehement request for them to leave the TARDIS. “He thought…” She swallowed hard, passed the lump in her throat. “He thought I’d want to settle down with a human version of himself instead of being here with him, didn’t he?”

When he did not answer, Rose forced herself to refocus, looking back at him, meeting his eyes; his expression was open, almost…vulnerable again.

“Can you blame him?” he asked her quietly.

She remembered distant words the Doctor had once told her, about how she could choose to live a life of adventures with him, she would still wither and die, in the end.

The Doctor had had a choice himself.

He could have welcomed her back onto his TARDIS, for as many years as she had left to live, where he would have her…for a while. Or he could give her up altogether and send her off with another version of himself who could give her everything he could not.

“I s’pose not,” she eventually answered, her voice thick with unshed tears. “I just wish…I wish he’d asked me first, you know?” She took a shuddering breath, quickly wiping off a tear from her cheek. “He should’ve asked if that’s what _you_ wanted, too.”

When she glanced back at him, the look on his face made his answer quite clear.

“I wouldn’t have needed much convincing, Rose,” he confirmed in a low voice a moment later.

The intensity in his eyes was suddenly too much for her. She knew deep in her guts that she could trust this new Doctor as unequivocally as she’d trusted the past two versions of him. It didn’t do anything to lessen her confusion, though, all too aware that somewhere outside this TARDIS, there already _was_ a Doctor.

Needing to put an end to the turmoil in her head and heart, Rose changed the subject, rather abruptly.

“What were you looking for, earlier?” she asked.

He frowned, understandably taken aback.

“When I came in,” she explained. “You were looking for something.”

“Oh,” he said, blinking the last of their ‘moment’ away. “Indeed I was,” he confirmed. “Spectacles. I need a new pair.”

Rose looked around at the mess that was the wardrobe. “’m guessing helping me find some jammies would be easier if you were wearing those glasses, uh? ”

“My new eyesight is somewhat disappointing,” he said as he sprang to his feet. “Four human eyes are better than two, though,” he added, extending a hand towards her.

_That_ hand.

“Definitely still giving me the creeps,” she told him in a brave attempt at humour, something in her also looking for…reassurance.

He wiggled his fingers, just as he did that night, so many years ago.

And just as she did then, Rose smiled and took his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaaaah I love these idiots SO MUCH, in case you hadn't noticed. It's also dawning on me that this story is going to be _long_ lol. It's a nervous 'lol' *stares at her school calendar* 
> 
> Things will evolve with Ten, too, I promise. Trust me, yeah? Slow and steady does it ;-)
> 
> Feedback remains my favourite thing, if you feel so inclined ♥


	5. Fluttering Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Retrieving a special ingredient on a foreign planet comes with its fair share of distractions and complications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, guys :))
> 
> Thank you so very much for your support, on this story and every other one I've published in 2019 ♥ Let's hope 2020 is as good a year for my muse.
> 
> (I'm publishing this at like, midnight, please forgive any weirdness)

**Chapter Five – Fluttering Lights**

The Doctor’s superior biology and his ability to go long periods of time without sleep did not account for special circumstances – such as the ones he recently experienced.

Despite his stubbornness about remaining fully awake and focused in order to keep an eye on Donna and the small alien regularly popping in and out of the house, he may or may not have dozed off a couple of times during the long hours he spent on his own.

If anything else, sleep helped him think somewhat more clearly about the events of the past day, allowing him to be _slightly_ less irrational about it all, his thoughts constantly drifting back to his TARDIS and the two occupants currently in it.

He did not feel particularly good about the way he’d treated Rose in recent hours.

It pained him to know he’d hurt her, just as it pained him to know that somewhere on his ship, his more human counterpart probably got to spend some quality time with her, pulling her even further away from him. Which was exactly what he’d planned on happening, after all.

He simply hadn’t planned on it happening with him standing _right there_ on the side-line.

The Doctor grew restless, itching to get out and explore the area, but his reluctance to leave Donna’s side kept him pacing inside. He did ask Oq’i quite a few (fifty-seven) questions as the hours slowly ticked by, all about their species, their community, their planet, their abilities, or how exactly they were planning on helping Donna.

After this intense cross-examination, he had no choice but to admit that, despite a certain narrow-mindedness on some issues, Oq’i and their people seemed genuinely docile, and happy to help.

About eight hours and twenty-three minutes after he was left alone with Donna, the other two reappeared, following the small alien back inside the house. His metacrisis self was still wearing his blue suit, although he’d swapped the maroon t-shirt for a proper white shirt and a crimson tie, a small change that still managed to make him look even more like…well, himself.

He was also wearing spectacles, a detail that caused the Doctor to frown, his small glower apparently enough not to require a verbal question.

“Poor vision,” the new Doctor explained simply. “I seem to be rather myopic in this body.”

The Doctor did not comment on this, pushing down the urge to make some kind of derogatory remark. His eyes were already drawn to Rose, who looked almost rested, now, and definitely a lot more refreshed.

(a lovely and very surreal sight for sore eyes)

“You look better,” he said, his voice flat and still strangely unlike his own; it was an improvement compared to their previous interactions, though.

Her tight frame relaxed ever so slightly. “Slept some,” she told him quietly, and he nodded. She looked past him. “How’s she?”

The Doctor glanced back at Donna, who could have been sleeping soundly, her dire condition only apparent by the pallor of her skin.

“Still dying,” he answered in a tone that was a lot sharper, looking straight at his counterpart as he said these words.

“To an optimist, every weed is a flower. To a pessimist, every flower is a weed.”

All eyes turned on Oq’i, who’d spoken the words calmly. They were too used to the Doctor’s glare by now to do anything but blink slowly back at him.

“Speaking of flower, are you ready to tell us where to find the one you need?” the Doctor asked, out of patience.

Oq’i nodded, _finally_ explaining what the flower looked like, and where they could find it.

“Be warned, as it is guarded,” Oq’i concluded, once he was done with his instructions. “One may not acquire it through force nor cunning.”

Following this encouraging conclusion, the trio decided against taking the TARDIS; after the strain they’d put her through the day before, almost being burnt to a crisp or having to tow an entire planet across the universe, a ‘precise’ landing to where they were meant to go seemed unlikely. Their instructions were already vague enough.

_‘Follow the running water down the hill and let the chirp of the flying birds guide you. When you reach the forty-eighth tree, take a right and look for the fluttering lights_.’

Well. Something like that.

Agreeing to leave Donna behind was more difficult.

“You must learn to trust those who only wish to help you,” Oq’i told the Doctor when he expressed more reluctance about leaving Donna on her own. “I mean your friend no harm. My people will be back soon, but we shall wait until you return before we attempt anything. She will merely be resting.”

And so they took off, one Time Lord, one hybrid and a human, following the stream downhill, just as they were directed.

Rose was far too curious and inquisitive to let any kind of silence settle between them, asking question after question after question. She did not direct those questions to any of them in particular either as she walked between them, regularly adjusting her pace to match his, no matter how often he tried walking faster or slower to create some distance between him and their pair.

Meanwhile, his more human self – who also happened to be his _better mood_ self – seemed quite happy to answer every query she had.

After some time, the Doctor had to admit that this was…almost pleasant.

Beside the moon and its rings taking up a large amount of space in the sky above them, there were two stars as well; while they were further and therefore smaller than the star in the solar system, two suns instead of one allowed the temperature on this planet’s surface to be rather mild. He was particularly partial to the small breeze that caused Rose’s hair to regularly flutter across her face, no matter how often she unconsciously tucked it back behind her ears as she talked.

They had just turned at the appropriate _tree_ and started advancing through a meadow when Rose pointed at something in the distance. “Look!”

About twenty metres away, there were…little balls. _Colourful_ little balls.

Not only were the colours on each individual ball shifting and whirling, the balls themselves were moving around, rolling and zooming passed each other across the thick grassy plain.

“Are they…_living_ things?” Rose asked as they came closer, sounding more fascinated than worried – the way she always did.

“I think these might be Yesooks,” he couldn’t help but answer.

“Yesooks?” his counterpart repeated. “I thought they went extinct.”

“Obviously not here,” the Doctor replied a tad harshly, just as Rose let out a gasp of amazement, now close enough to see proper details.

“They are…_fluffy_!” she breathed out.

Fluffy, they definitely were.

Fluffy and furry, their shifting amalgam of bright colours going from red to blue to yellow and green and every shade in between, rolling across the ground as if their fur acted like tiny legs, two long, retractable antennae sticking out from what had to be the top of their heads.

“Are they toxic to humans?” Rose asked, and both Doctors exchanged a look, knowing exactly what she was asking.

“Well, no, but – ” the part-human Doctor began, the ‘no’ barely out of his mouth that Rose was dashing forward, towards the sea of small critters.

While most organisms would have scattered away at being suddenly towered over by a tall, mostly furless biped, these did not, except for a few nervous ones. Most of them actually seemed quite delighted to be approached.

Before long, no less than eight tiny balls were attempting to climb Rose’s legs, which seemed to be all the encouragement she needed. She plonked herself down onto the ground, sitting crossed legged in the grass, allowing the fluffy creatures to skitter all over her jeans.

A particularly brave one was already climbing all the way up her arm, soon passed her shoulder and aiming for her neck, where it nestled itself against her skin. Clearly tickled, Rose squirmed at the sensation before gently grabbing at it. It was just big enough to be held snuggly into one hand, bringing it closer to her face. Everyone present could now see the two big, expressive eyes half-concealed in all that fur.

“These,” she breathed out, “are the cutest things I have ever seen in my life, and we’ve seen some _cute_ stuff in our days.” She was barely done talking that her face lit up even more. “Oh! It’s purring!”

“Uh oh,” the Doctor in blue said.

“Uh oh?” Rose asked with a wide grin, not even looking at any of them, all of her focus remaining on the furry ball in her hands, which was purring away indeed, its antennae twirling around.

“Those creatures are projective empath, Rose,” the Doctor in brown said. “The reason why they became mostly extinct is because they were overly used across some part of this galaxy for their therapeutic effects. They are, quite literally, little balls of happiness. When they start purring, which they do for about a minute, it causes your dopamine and endorphin levels to spike.”

“So, you’re telling me this is another thing on this planet that’s getting me high?”

The Doctor in glasses tilted his head. “Well, not exactly. You’re not _high_, per se. You’re just…” He scratched the back of his head, at a loss for words.

“…in a very good mood,” the original Doctor clumsily finished for him.

Their poor attempt at making this _not_ about yet another animal or place accidently getting her high indeed – something that had admittedly happened a couple of times throughout their travels – seemed to amuse her greatly.

Without any restraint nor care, Rose threw her head back and _laughed_, a full, vibrant laughter the Doctor hadn’t heard in years.

He felt almost dizzy, incapable of tearing his eyes away from her, watching as she laughed, carefree and beautiful, the way she used to be what felt like centuries ago, back when he often joined her in her glee.

She was as mesmerising now as she had been all these years ago, thawing out the ice that had formed within and all around his battered hearts.

Just as she had then.

…

Waves of warmth and _calm_ seemed to seep straight from the little critter in her hands to the blood in her veins, spreading the sensation through the rest of her body.

Rose hadn’t forgotten anything about what was weighing on her only moments ago, from the tension between her and the Time Lord Doctor, to the grief she felt whenever she thought about her family. All of it was still there, still important.

But it was all right, too.

It was all _right_.

The vibrations from the Yesook had stopped, but the gleeful feeling remained. Her laughter was just starting to subside when she finally looked away from the little ball of fluff and refocused on the Doctors, who stood a few meters away from her – and from each other, both standing still with their hands in their pockets.

The way they looked at her was the same, too.

She’d always been responsive to that kind of stare from the Doctor, when his gaze became so intense that his eyes looked almost dark, all of his attention and intent directed entirely on her and nothing else. Sensing that same focus coming from _both_ of them was…intense. Combined with the high she was currently experiencing (no matter what they said), she wasn’t surprised when her cheeks started heating up as a result from the different kind of warmth sweeping through her.

“How long’s it gonna last?” she asked, her voice sounding a bit odd.

They both blinked at _exactly_ the same time, as if coming back to themselves.

“A few minutes,” the spectacles wearing Doctor replied – her _Bronze_ Doctor she couldn’t help thinking with a smile.

“Am I gonna crash hard from this?”

The one in brown (her _Copper_ Doctor) shook his head. “Your good mood might linger for a couple of hours, but your hormone levels will progressively go back to normal.”

Rose reluctantly put the little Yesook down. The moment she did, he climbed right back onto her leg and arm, quickly going back to the crook of her neck, and Rose buried her fingers in his soft fur, resisting the urge to _coo_. “I think we’ve got a snuggler,” she stated as she made to stand up, careful not to step on any of the other ones.

“They are quite smart creatures, actually,” the Doctor in glasses said. “As projective empaths, they do exactly just that – project their emotions, which are primarily positive. But they’re also the regular kind of empaths, so they’re able to tell when someone…needs a boost.”

“This one likes me,” she said, giddy, aware that she was still smiling a bit too broadly. “Can I keep it?”

They both frowned that same frown, pursed lips included, and Rose couldn’t help it, bursting into renewed laughter.

She got it under control much faster this time, using her free hand to clear her fluttering hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “At least ‘s not a cat,” she pointed out.

“It’s not a pet either,” the Doctor in blue countered at once with a hint of disapproval.

“Go tell him that,” she said with another smile, before biting down on her lip, giving each of them the _look_ – the one she knew would get her exactly what she wanted.

They both sighed.

The Doctor in brown was the first to cave. “Let’s worry about it on our way back,” he said with a glower. “We need to keep going.”

Rose waved the remaining small group of creatures goodbye. As soon as she started walking, her little furball rolled away from her neck to settle on her shoulder, his grip remarkably sturdy, considering his lack of…anything obvious that would help him grip.

After walking through a small wood, they found themselves at the bottom of an imposing cliff, its rough sides jagged by erosion. Somewhere amongst the rocks, high above the ground, were five, bright purple flowers.

“I suppose one of us should get climbing,” the part-human Doctor eventually said.

“Are you volunteering?” the other one asked with unconcealed sarcasm. “If so, allow me to be sceptical.”

“Come on, now, you really need to have more faith in yourself.”

“You really drew the short straw with that genetic mix up, eh? All these qualities you could have inherited, and you end up with her sense of humour.”

“Uh, Doctor?”

Rose had hoped to get at least one of the men’s attention by calling their name. She was rewarded by two pairs of eyes refocusing on her.

“’m pretty sure the rock’s…moving,” she pointed out.

They both looked back at the cliff with another matching scowl. “Moving?” the Doctor in blue repeated, dubious. “Might just be another side effect from the telepathic – ” He stopped midsentence, having apparently spotted what Rose had noticed a full minute ago. “Oh,” he said.

A large portion of the cliffside was indeed slowly extending outwards, before being drown back inwards, in what resembled _breathing_. Rose’s gaze followed the hard ridges, focusing particularly on the area where the flowers had grown.

“Are those…_eyes_?” she asked faintly.

There was a familiar, characteristic buzzing at her side, turning to see the Doctor in brown holding out his sonic screwdriver towards the ‘breathing’ cliffside.

Either the noise or the vibrations coming from the device caused a response. Rose watched in stunned silence as a giant chunk of stone detached itself from the rocky flank, until she was staring at an enormous…_head_ with two large onyx eyes. Although the sight was striking, it wasn’t exactly frightening either, given the bundle of purple flowers sprouting from the top of its head.

Or at least it wasn’t frightening until the Doctor decided to put his sonic on a higher setting, the buzzing suddenly louder. It caused the rocks to split open, creating a ‘mouth’ cavity that looked like a small cave big enough to fit a person in there; while it was clearly toothless, it could easily crush someone’s bones into dust, as forewarned by the low, rumbling sound now escaping the creature.

“Stop that!” the part-human Doctor complained, slapping his counterpart’s hand away, interrupting his scanning. “It’s obviously ticking it off.”

“And what exactly do you suggest we do? We need to get all the way up there, and the only way we can do that without our skulls getting cracked open like a walnut is to figure out what that thing is. Some sort of Nainguds, maybe?”

“Except for the fact that it seemed to be entirely made of _rock_.”

“This whole planet has been isolated for at least a couple of millennia. It could be a subspecies we’re not familiar with.”

“Nainguds don’t even exist in this part of the universe.”

“Very well. Enlighten me, then.”

“Looks more like a cross between Statiths and Brivoks to me.”

“Statiths and _Brivoks_?” the Time Lord Doctor repeated in a high, offended voice. “I’m starting to doubt you’ve retained any of my braincells at all!”

Lost in their bickering and being properly self-absorbed as they faced each other rather than the creature, none of them noticed Rose advancing steadily towards the ‘cliff’, her new furry friend rolling sideways, hiding into her hair.

Unlike the Doctor(s) who had a tendency to get lost in their big brain, she often took a more visceral approach to situations such as this one. And right now, still a bit high on endorphin and oxytocin, with a fresh dose of adrenaline coursing through her veins, she felt fairly confident about those instincts of hers.

She suspected that whatever this creature was, it would react to…an open _mind_, the way everything seemed to be on this planet. As she extended a hand towards the rock, she kept her mind clear and wide open, soon pressing her palm to the rough texture of the stone.

The effects were instantaneous, feeling like something huge was suddenly pushing against the barriers of her mind.

Having no experience whatsoever with connections of that kind, and being therefore unequipped to protect herself against the creature’s mental probe, her weak barriers shattered at once, and she half collapsed against its surface, her breath knocked out of her.

_We mean you no harm,_ she thought genuinely_. We only seek help for our friend._

She projected a clear vision of the flower they needed to collect, and a sense of understanding swept through her. Watching as if through a haze, she saw the rocks in front of her beginning to shift and move, creating a path for her to climb.

As she began her ascension, the throbbing in her head became quite painful, unable to undo what she started, still very much in contact with the creature.

“Rose!”

Judging by the overlapping, anxious shouts somewhere below her, both Doctors had finally realised what she’d been up to this past minute.

Rose carried on climbing, her thoughts too scattered to be able to answer their calls. Still connected to the alien, she didn’t need to look to know its rocky surface was still changing, smoothing over the places her feet or hands had been only moments ago, making it impossible for any of the men to follow her.

“You’re going to break your neck!” one of them shouted clearly enough for her to make out the words and their meaning.

“To a pessimist, every flower is a weed,” she heard herself muttering.

And speaking of flowers…

_Thanks_, she told the creature as the fingers of her free hand closed around a thick stem, gently plucking the flower out. She was feeling rather faint, now; climbing back down without breaking her neck seemed unlikely at this point.

The creature still reading her every thought, she wasn’t surprised when she felt the entire structure move, lowering her towards the ground so suddenly that her stomach dropped at the sensation.

Soon, her whole _body _was dropping.

She never hit the ground, though, immediately grabbed and pulled away by no less than four hands.

She’d expected the strain on her mind to disappear the moment she stopped touching the alien; unfortunately, it didn’t quite happen that way. Although their connection was severed, the pressure…

The pressure was _everywhere_.

She could tell both Doctors were still talking, to her and to each other – or rather shouting and blabbering as they carried her further and further away from the rock creature, but she could not understand a single word of what they were saying.

“I don’t feel so good…” she slurred faintly, only kept upright by their sturdy grips on her.

The feeling of cool hands upon the feverish skin of her face was the last thing Rose was aware of before she lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, one of the fun things about writing ~adventure is that I get to pull that kind of nonsense on you guys from time to time xD 
> 
> Also, because I may have spent a certain amount of time playing with photoshop at some point this week to produce this thing, behold the Yesook (I do take name suggestions xD)
> 
> [](https://ibb.co/S07J6nC)  

> 
> Feedback is not mandatory, but it is lovely and much, much appreciated ♥ I may just have one more chapter in me before the end of my school break, but I can't promise anything.


	6. The Sound of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor gets Rose out of a tight spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, while I was in a fairly good headspace when I wrote the first draft of this chapter, most of the editing was done today while stuck for hours in an airport and on a plane, after getting some upsetting news in my family. This was Distraction™ for me today, but I'm definitely not in the right kind of creative place anymore now. I needed to post it, though, so I can just focus on other things. I hope you enjoy it ;-)
> 
> Lauren, whenever you read this...thank you so much for your support, today and through it all ♥

**Chapter Six – The Sound of Silence**

Bloody.

_Humans_.

What was it about this species that made them so prone to touching things they had no business touching in the first place?

In less than twenty-four hours, the Doctor had to cope with not one but _two_ of his favourite humans having their minds damaged after they came in contact with something they should have stirred away from.

The anger that flared through him as he and his counterpart dragged Rose away from the sentient cliffside was to be expected – it had become his go-to mood lately. Generally speaking, anger tended to be safer than fear.

The ‘dialogue’ currently going on between him and his metacrisis self was absolutely futile, their comments even more pointless than the bickering that had led to this situation, both shouting or blurting out observations that had little to no value, merely pointing out the obvious.

Whatever had happened to Rose’s mind when she’d touched that creature, it was still affecting her now, even after they’d taken her quite a safe distance away from it.

“I don’t feel so good…” she half-managed to mutter, and what was left of her strength vanished altogether, her body going limp in their grasps.

Although they could easily support her weight between the two of them, the Doctor lowered himself to the ground, just as he had with Donna twelve hours ago in his control room, pulling most of her body against him. He quickly cupped both sides of her face in his hands, getting a ‘surface’ reading, trying to determine what was going on.

“Her mind’s shutting down,” he spoke in a terse voice that did not quite convey the depth of his (panic) irritation.

“You’ve got to stop it!” his more human self nearly shouted in response from where he kneeled at their side, nowhere as guarded about letting his true emotions bleed out. “You can’t afford to be sensible about this anymore, she needs help, and I can’t give it to her!”

“I know that!” he shouted back, his anger not enough to bury the doubts and fears squeezing at his hearts, now, too affected and distracted to remember to control their thumping rhythm in his chest.

He’d gone months – _years_ – while travelling with her without caving in, without allowing himself to do something he’d been tempted to do from the moment he met her and felt a genuine connection form between them. He’d always held back, because he knew how easy it would be, to give in, how receptive she would be to it – to _him_.

He’d done his very best to keep ‘touching’ between them to a minimal, with platonic hand holding and quick hugs; even when he hadn’t been able to stop himself from really holding her to him (something that happened more and more towards the end of their run together), he’d never allowed these embraces to stretch, for fear of the temptation becoming too great.

All these efforts, only to end up _here_ on this forsaken planet, with her unconscious body in his arms and her feverish face in his hands, having no choice but to impose his mind on her, having no way to ask for consent.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out as he closed his eyes and focused, slipping inside of her at last.

Humans usually possessed weak mental defences, which he’d always been able to move passed with ease; whatever the creature did to her, it had shattered those barriers completely, her mind wide open.

The moment he entered it, he felt that other connection that had caused her to shut down, pushing her deeper and deeper within herself. The alien’s presence was gone, but she was still affected by its ripples. The Doctor’s focus was such that putting a stop to those ripples was not difficult at all, until he was projecting another kind of shield outward, pushing it all out.

This was only half the battle; she’d sunk so deep as a last attempt to protect herself, she had no way of getting out without his help.

He plunged after her without any hesitation; as he did so, he was unable to keep himself from being affected by her raw emotions, shedding off his own layers the deeper he went. As he hoped, the closer he got, the more she felt him and responded to him, her trust in him such that she let him wrap himself around her without opposing any resistance. He surged upward, bringing her back to the surface.

The further up they went, the stronger her mind became, as did the feel of it, tendrils upon tendrils tightening around him; she was coming back to herself, sensing her awareness of _him_, incapable of concealing himself from her anymore, letting her feel it all, from his fear to his relief, to that _ache_ he felt so deep, experiencing her emotions in response, her relief as strong, even through her bewilderment, particularly affected by that yearning that was entirely _Rose._

As she regained consciousness, she sucked air into her lungs the way any drowning person would, instinctively reaching out for him, all ten of her fingers sinking into his hair, clutching and pulling his face down to hers, until their foreheads and noses were pressed together.

The tight link between their minds was overwhelming her, yet he sensed her unabashed thrill at feeling him so open to her; it would be so easy, so ridiculously easy, to change their connection, turn it into a proper _bond_, to meld with her so completely.

She was in no condition to think clearly, though – literally; she was confused, and weakened, and taking advantage of it was unconceivable.

He began withdrawing himself from her as gently as he could; she responded at once, feeling her anguish, unable to properly communicate with him, but instinctively trying anyway, sensing her _don’t_ in the squeeze of her mind as much as in the clench of her fingers in his hair.

_I’m sorry_, he told her again, before retreating completely.

He became aware of his surroundings again, still on the ground with Rose against him, their faces pressed together tightly, even though her grip on his hair had loosened almost completely already, her loud, irregular exhales warm upon his lips.

Her hands fell from his head as he pulled his face away from hers, meeting her gaze. He saw pain and confusion through her hazy eyes. But there was recognition, too, a clear awareness of _him_. The Doctor knew there was no point in hiding behind his anger anymore.

She’d felt enough to know better.

…

_This_, the Doctor decided as he sat there on the ground, might be his least favourite thing so far – and again, he’d already experienced quite a few unpleasant things in his short existence. There was little he disliked more than feeling _helpless_, and this whole situation sure wasn’t making him feel useful in any way.

He’d understood what was happening to Rose just as quickly as his original self. He’d known what had to be done, just like he had. He even knew _how_ to do it.

The thing was, he _couldn’t_ do it.

Not anymore.

He’d felt the loss of his telepathic abilities the moment he drew his first breath, but never as strongly as he did now, powerless to do anything to help Rose. Even his inability to help Donna hadn’t hurt quite as much, forced to watch as his counterpart linked his mind to Rose’s.

Something he himself would never get to do.

The whole ordeal did not last long, no more than a minute passing between the moment _he_ entered Rose’s mind and the moment she drew breath as if she’d been drowning. That minute felt _long_ as he watched Rose’s fingers sink into his counterpart’s hair and clench, pinning him to her. Even when she regained consciousness, their faces did not immediately separate, breathing the same air, seeing enough and being self-aware enough to know what the look on the other Doctor’s face meant.

He could picture it all with a little too much ease, what it had felt like, to finally _do it_; how he would have been unable to hide himself from her, not with that kind of connection.

_That _was obvious enough in the way she was now looking up at his original self.

“How much pain are you in?”

The new Doctor was the one to speak, quietly, his voice low and strained, unable to remain silent a second longer, having just witnessed a moment that was far more intimate than she probably realised.

Rose blinked heavily, finally shifting her gaze towards him, and a look of confusion crossed her face, as if she’d briefly forgotten he was there.

That he even existed at all.

The way both his stomach and throat clenched at this realisation was as unpleasant as the sensation of his single heart thumping in his chest.

“Head’s…” she answered, her voice barely more than a whisper, closing her eyes and shaking said head a little as her face constricted again. “Head’s pounding…”

His counterpart was moving, now, gently shifting his hold on Rose, clearly meaning to help her back on her feet. The Doctor snapped out of his apathy, coming closer to give him a hand. Between the two of them, they had her up and standing within moments. Still groggy and clearly hurting, Rose didn’t seem entirely…_there_.

His heart skipped a beat when she leaned against him for support, not only letting him wrap an arm securely around her waist, but slumping heavily against his side in response, her face pressed to his suit jacket over his shoulder. His counterpart used this opportunity to release her completely, quickly walking away.

While it looked like he was merely going to collect the discarded flower, the Doctor highly suspected his original self _needed_ some space right now.

When he looked back down at Rose to find her peering up at him, with her cheek pressed to his shoulder, his heart nearly skipped another beat.

“Hello,” she whispered, sounding as dazed as she looked.

And yet, he had no doubt that she _knew_ who he was.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to smile faintly. “Hello,” he replied softly.

He started in surprise when something colourful and furry peeked out from Rose’s dishevelled hair, eyeing him with big, anxious eyes. The little ball of fluff must have decided he was trustworthy, because he rolled away from Rose and climbed onto his arm instead, taking residency on his shoulder. Rose’s gaze shifted, looking at her little friend.

“Too much excitement?” she whispered, to which the Yesook answered by puffing out its fur with a small chirping noise that was clearly disapproving. “Yeah, me too.”

His counterpart was back, already getting a gentle hold on Rose’s other arm. “Let’s take you back to the TARDIS,” he told her, his voice low and tense.

The trek back felt much longer without Rose’s eager questions, walking somewhat more slowly as well, even if she supported more and more of her own weight as they trudged on.

By the time they were approaching Oq’i's place, both suns were setting, the sky now a blend of deep orange and red, the warm shades of colour more intense than they would be on Earth. They stopped some distance away from the house, and the Time Lord Doctor turned to him, holding out the flower.

“Take it back to Oq’i and check on Donna. I’ll take Rose to the infirmary.”

Just like that, _he_ had taken yet another decision for them all.

And he couldn’t blame him, really, for needing to be alone with her.

Rose looked pale, even in the reddish light, the look on her face making it clear she was hurting, while still trying to process whatever she’d experienced when their minds were linked, her hooded eyes still locked on his original self.

And really, he couldn’t blame her either.

All he could do was nod then watch as the pair walked away from him.

…

Rose was putting on a brave face as they walked back to the TARDIS, trying to conceal the pain she was in.

Her head throbbed with every step she took, making it hard for her not to visibly wince. Although she’d regained the ability to walk on her own a while ago, she was still clinging to the Doctor’s arm, squeezing it a bit too hard whenever pain flared behind her eyes, so that she had no doubt he _knew_ she was hurting.

They did not exchange a single word between the moment they left the other Doctor and the moment they entered the TARDIS, Rose much too uncomfortable to be able to process what had happened earlier. She followed him to the infirmary, letting him help her sit at the edge of the exam table, before he went to rummage around for the right medicine. When he came back to her, he held out a glass of water, before putting a couple of plain looking pills into her palm.

“These are strong. They should take effect within three minutes.”

Rose didn’t argue, popping the pills in and downing all of the water in one go, giving the empty glass back to him. She went still, then, eyes closed, waiting for the medicine to work its magic, focused on the pulsing ache in her brain, which still followed the rhythm of her heart.

The throbbing slowly receded over the next two minutes, until it disappeared altogether.

She moved tentatively, rolling her head and shoulders, stretching a little, enough to notice that all the other aches she’d been experiencing from all her intense dimension jumping had gone, too, properly pain free for the first time in…a while.

Still, she kept her eyes closed, forcing her breathing to remain slow and controlled, even as she became more and more aware of the Doctor, standing nearby in the room...staring at her – according to the shivers regularly tingling at the back of her neck. Now that she was able to focus outward, she felt the tension growing exponentially between them, all of her thoughts on what she’d experienced in the aftermath of her little ‘bonding time’ with a giant rock creature.

And what she’d experienced was…_him_.

There was no other way to describe it, not with how little she knew about telepathic connections, or how ‘out of it’ she’d been at the time.

It’d all been…unsubstantial, and hazy, almost ethereal, but he’d been_ there_ with her.

He’d found her, lost in the dark, and brought her back out. And what she’d felt through it all hadn’t been irritation, or frustration about how she’d put herself in danger mere hours after she’d assured him she could fend for herself. There was none of the animosity he’d sent her way so vehemently after she’d refused to leave his ship.

All she’d felt was his concern at knowing her hurt, and his relief, not only for having found her, but for being connected to her in such a way, too. And there’d been…_need_, a kind of overwhelming, aching need she immediately associated with him sprinting towards her, trying to outrun even himself in his desperation to scoop her off the ground and hold her in his arms, after surviving years without her.

As if he’d sensed that she was about to reopen her eyes, the Doctor looked away _just_ as she tried meeting his gaze, staring at the ground instead.

He was obviously trying to put his mask back on, to build up some defences again, but she could tell how wobbly it all was.

She’d been hurt by his recent attitude and words, but even then she’d suspected it was a disguise, a prickly costume he’d put on to try and push her away; her own doubts and insecurities had kept her from listening to her instincts, but she knew better, now.

More importantly, he knew that she knew.

Silence stretched and stretched, and still he did not speak, or look up, even as waves of static energy grew around him, the way it was bound to happen, the Doctor never one to stay still like this for more than a minute or two.

“’m not used to you being this quiet,” she eventually admitted, keeping her voice low and non-threatening.

She may have gotten an exceptional look inside his carapace, her skin almost tingling at the memory of what she’d felt while they were bonded, she was realistic enough to know this didn’t mean he was going to drop the martyr act and _really_ let her in.

“I’ve learned to appreciate silence,” he told her.

She scoffed softly at that, unable not to, and this small sound finally dragged his gaze up, meeting her eyes; he almost glowered at her, then, tensed and guarded, obviously feeling too exposed and vulnerable.

“You hate silence,” she told him, point blank.

He glared at her for another two, maybe three seconds, before his features relaxed, and he shrugged stiffly. “I don’t _hate_ silence,” he said, tersely. “I just don’t like how…quiet it is.”

Rose smiled tiredly. “Isn’t that what you'd call an ‘oxymoron' or something?” she teased. “Unless you're about to tell me there's some planet or moon out there where silence’s actually loud.”

He got that _look_, then, the look that told her his brain had come to that very same conclusion.

“Well…” he began with a tilt of his head, and there was something so familiar in this little moment that her heart squeezed in delight and affection, as if the last four years had never happened at all.

Something must have shown on her face, or he was simply hit by the same realisation, because he never actually delved into whatever monologue had popped into his head, his expression closing off again, reminding her that the last four years _did_ happen; the only difference this time was that he did not look away, holding her gaze.

That silence wasn’t entirely quiet.

As they held each other’s gaze, the air became heavy with the unsaid again, with that mutual yet unspoken awareness of the glimpse they'd gotten into each other’s head, less than an hour ago.

“I’m sorry.”

It was odd, hearing him blurt out these words so...awkwardly, when she’d heard him say them so smoothly and empathetically to strangers quite a few times in the past.

The delivery may not have been as smooth, he looked genuine enough.

She briefly thought about prodding a little, make him spill _what_ he was sorry for, exactly, as she knew there was more than one reason.

She shook her head a little instead. “t’s okay,” she told him softly.

But he shook his head, too, the gesture a lot more stern. “No,” he stated, his voice just as low and cold as it’d been back in that control room...except that the animosity she sensed coming from him wasn’t directed towards her, this time. “There’s nothing _okay_ about – ”

He couldn’t finish, finally looking away from her, shaking his head again as he clenched his jaw.

“You could have _died_,” he said, curtly. “What that thing did to your mind, it’s almost ridiculous that I got you out the way I did, so quickly and without any severe brain damage. Me? I could have created a link with that creature and collected the bloody flower without as much as a shift from my mental barriers. Even my half-human self could have sustained the mental load without much of a headache, but _you_… ”

Even though it could have sounded like an accusation, it didn’t. All she sensed from him was self-loathing.

“I was so busy arguing with _myself_, I didn’t even realise what was going on. So you took action, and you put yourself in danger. Again. Because in the end, he was right.”

“Who was right?” She asked, although she had a feeling she knew the answer to that question.

“Davros,” he confirmed a moment later. “As much as I hate to admit it…he was right about that. About me, taking innocent people away from their home, luring them in with promises of adventures through time and across the stars, only to turn them into weapons.”

Rose stared at him, her heart pulsing against her ears again. “Is that really what you think of me?” she asked quietly. “That I'm a weapon?”

“You sure aren’t that shop-girl from London anymore,” he answered thickly. “Look at _Mickey_ the Idiot, who used to shrivel in fear and cower behind you. Look at Martha, who I snatched up from a hospital on her way to becoming an actual doctor, only for her to almost blow up your planet less than twenty-four hours ago. And look at Donna, who – ”

But he couldn’t finish that sentence either.

“She took in a part of me, and now it’s killing her.”

Rose looked at this man, who seemed almost more broken than he had been when she first met him, all these years ago. Her heart ached at the thought of what could have happened to him during their time apart, to make him so...hopeless.

“Doctor.”

She’d called him out softly, but firmly enough to make him look at her.

“I’m not gonna tell you all of us haven't changed, ‘cause we have. But I’m gonna call _bullshit_ on the way you’re choosing to look at this. Travelling with you made me tougher, yeah, the way it did all your other companions. It made me tougher because it opened my eyes, to all the good and the bad that happens across the universe.”

She slid off the table, then, not yet moving towards him but he stiffened anyway, clinging to the counter behind him.

“You’ve travelled with enough of us to know we humans like to leap into action. And I've travelled with you long enough to say for a fact that it's something you actually love about us, even if it annoys the hell out of you, too. But that’s just what we do.”

She was walking to him, now.

“That’s why I saved your arse that very first day with the Nestene Consciousness, even though I hadn’t climbed a rope in years.” She stopped in front of him. “Mickey? He doesn’t cower behind anyone anymore ‘cause he’s realised he’s a lot braver than he thought. Martha almost destroyed the planet, yeah, but I don’t believe it's from lack of compassion. I think she was ready to do it because she knows that to save a whole body, you sometimes have to cut off a limb. And Donna…” She raised a hand to his face, cupping his cool jaw. “Donna took in a part of you, and saved the entire universe.”

He shifted his head, as if trying to get her to let go. Rose didn’t, tightening her grip on him until he stopped fidgeting, meeting her eyes again.

“You don’t turn us into soldiers, Doctor,” she whispered, her thumb gently caressing his skin. “You give us courage, and purpose. You make us better.”

She doubted she had said enough for him to actually believe her, his pain too deep for a quick fix, but she knew almost at once that she had reached him enough for him to cave in.

Something in him seemed to loosen completely, bringing a hand up to cover hers, his other hand finding her warm cheek as he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers, his fingers pressed to her temple.

Rose felt the potential energy between them, how _loud_ that crackling electricity was.

It would take a mere nothing for him to really give in and spark that connection open again, a movement just as small as the one necessary to bridge that gap between their lips.

The tiniest of moves, for something so significant.

In the end, nothing happened at all.

The Doctor did release her, as quickly as he'd put his hands on her, before stepping out of the room altogether without a word or a look back.

And that silence had a sound, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure when I'll be able to write the next chapter, as I'm going back to work tomorrow, and Real Life things happening.  
Thank you for your patience, support and understanding ♥


	7. Mazes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoever said sharing with another version of yourself would be easy, lied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support and your patience. It took a while, but I'm finally in the right head space to work on this story again. I think I've mentioned it before, but this is really shaping up to be loooong. If you're choosing to come on this ride with me...thank you ♥

**Chapter Seven – Mazes**

By the time the Doctor had walked the small distance back to the house, the heavy weight in the pit of his stomach had turned into something else. As much as he tried not to focus too long on what he’d witnessed, he couldn’t push the memory away, his mind latching specifically on _Rose_, the way it so often did.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how pale she’d been, remembering her strained features in the aftermath of the mental ordeal she’d been forced through, or how she’d crumpled in their arms.

There was a soft, chirping noise near his ear, having almost forgotten the small Yesook currently clinging to his shoulder. The critter seemed to be reacting to the shift in his mood, unable to do anything about it, as Yesooks needed quite a few hours to recharge after giving someone a dose of their ‘medicine’.

The Doctor was therefore not exactly _rational_ by the time he was pushing the door open. Many pairs of eyes stopped on him as he walked through, Oq’i having been joined by three of their people.

“You have succeeded,” Oq’i spoke, already making their way towards the Doctor, holding out a hand to collect the flower.

Their calm demeanour only made the Doctor’s irritation worse; he did not move an inch, his fingers clenched around the thick stem.

“You should have warned us,” he told them, his voice low and tense. “About the creature protecting it.”

“The Caar’ak senses dishonesty and foul play,” Oq’i said. “Chances of success are higher when it is approached with a clear, unknowing mind.”

“It almost killed one of us,” the Doctor snapped, his voice having reached some of its lowest tones. “Human minds are not meant to be subjected to that kind of intrusion.”

“A human touched the Caar’ak and did not die?” one of the other aliens asked. “That is unusual.”

This did not exactly calm him down. “It’s lucky for you that she didn’t.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” yet another alien butted in, their tone just as calm and condescending as all the other’s. “This human’s mind must be remarkably strong. Much stronger than that one’s,” they added, indicating Donna.

“Her mind has saved _billions_,” he defended his best friend at once in his harshest voice yet. “I am tired of your charades and treasure hunts. Can you help her or not?”

Oq’i nodded slowly, unperturbed by the Doctor’s flaring nostrils and menacing tone, their hand still held out. He finally relented, giving them the flower, which the small alien began examining at once, inspecting each petal carefully.

“The chemicals contained in this plant combined with our telepathic suggestions will encourage the unbinding of foreign memories,” Oq’i explained. “But the process will unfortunately be futile if we cannot locate the source of it all.”

“So how do you plan on doing that, then?” the Doctor asked, although he was smart enough to have an inkling on what they meant.

“We need to create a bridge,” another Theihrath said. “Between your friend’s mind and the mind she absorbed. The memories cannot simply…go. They need to be transferred back.”

The Doctor stared at the four small aliens that stood in the room as they stared back at him. His gaze found Donna next, seemingly asleep on her makeshift bed. He briefly thought about his original self, currently in his TARDIS with Rose, about how _he_ would claim to be the right person for the task at hand, to heal Donna’s mind the way he’d healed Rose’s.

He’d be all too happy to get another opportunity to remind everyone that his metacrisis self was nothing but a weak _hybrid_ who’d lost a lot more than just the one heart.

Not to mention how taking this decision without consulting him first was bound to aggravate him.

Ah well.

…

Rose remained in the infirmary longer than she needed to, oddly aware of the passing of _time_, as much as she was aware of her physical body, her every nerve tingling in the aftermath of her close encounter with the Doctor.

When she finally left the room, she went for the kitchen, having no desire whatsoever to go back to her room unless she had to; now pain free for the first time in a long while, she also felt properly hungry. As she walked through familiar corridors, she let her fingers trail upon the coral wall, sending a wordless question to the TARDIS, inquiring whether or not the Doctor was still onboard.

Although the answer she received remained as ephemeral as it had always been, the image in her mind seemed…sharper, clearer than any communication with the ship had ever been. Not only did she understand at once that the Doctor was indeed still onboard and where he was, she also felt his _motives_, understanding that he’d stayed put instead of joining his part-human self because he was reluctant to leave her behind.

He may be currently hiding from her, Rose chose to see this as progress anyway.

Once in the kitchen, she made herself a sandwich, which she ate on her way to the library. She briefly thought about giving him space, considering the fact that he might retreat completely and shut her out, after everything that had transpired in the infirmary.

She’d spent the better part of four years trying to find him again, though; she wasn’t going to give up this easily.

The library also happened to be one of her favourite places, one she had sourly missed. As a young, impressionable nineteen year old, she had been properly swooned by the way the room regularly _shape-shifted _itself, as it easily went from a cosy little nook with a few bookshelves, beanbags and a fireplace, to being more massive than a cathedral, with high ceilings and an infinite collection of rows, each containing hundreds of volumes in every imaginable language.

She was not exactly surprised to find the room particularly long and maze-like, today, quite unbothered by his attempt at losing himself in there, as his ship had been rather specific about his location.

The image that greeted her when she finally found him was far from being an unfamiliar one.

He’d climbed onto a ladder in order to reach a higher shelf; instead of climbing back down to go sit at one of the many tables that could be found throughout the room, he was still perched up there, half-dangling off the ladder with one arm hooked around it, while he held the book opened in his other hand, spectacles low on his nose.

Rose experienced an odd feeling of _déja_-_vu_, as she remembered his counterpart dangling from a staircase, only hours ago, down in the wardrobe.

She pushed the image away, doubting that _this_ Doctor was going to greet her with a bright ‘_Hello_!’; that became obvious quickly enough. He’d become instantly aware of her presence below him – the way he always was – yet he was now choosing to carry on with his reading as if she wasn’t there at all.

“Found anything useful?” she eventually spoke – that was something else they’d been very good at doing, once upon a time. Pretending _things_ hadn’t happened.

She wasn’t too sure this was a dynamic she wanted to carry on with, hoping that they could learn to find some kind of open and more honest ‘ground’, but she still knew him well enough not to pressure him into a conversation he clearly couldn’t cope with right now.

“Learned a few interesting facts about the Theihraths,” he answered casually, still not looking at her. “Wouldn’t call any of it ‘useful’, though.”

She carried on watching him as she leaned back against a shelf, distractedly nibbling on the inside of her lip. “D’you think they’ll be able to help Donna?” she asked after another long stretch of silence.

He shrugged stiffly, finally peering down at her. “I still don’t know enough about this place or this species to speculate.” When Rose merely blinked up at him, he averted his eyes and closed the book with a loud sound, shoving it back into the shelf. “I hope they do,” he admitted a lot more quietly – to the books’ spines.

Her heart squeezed at how _tentative_ he was, barely allowing himself some hope.

“From everything I’ve seen of her so far, Donna’s a fighter,” Rose told him. “Very…feisty.”

The Doctor actually smirked a little at that, before swiftly sliding down the ladder the way she’d seen him do many times before, not bothering with using rungs. When he reached the ground, he turned around to face her, already taking his glasses off.

“‘_Feisty’_ is a bit of an understatement,” he said as he tucked the specs away, finally looking back at her. “She genuinely scares me at times.”

“Good,” Rose said with a smile. “I’m glad you found someone who kept you on your toes. Martha seemed very spirited, too.” After a short pause, she asked: “Any other companion I should know about?”

He was staring at her again, with enough intensity to cause a shiver to run down her spine.

He eventually shook his head, slowly. “You were hard to replace,” he said in a low voice.

Rose stared back, once again too aware of her quickening pulse.

Before she could think of anything to say in answer to this admission, a _loud_ noise echoed through the room, like an alarm, immediately shifting the Doctor’s focus, his frown deep and beautiful.

“What’s that?” Rose asked.

“Someone’s coming up to the doors.”

…

The Doctor lept into action, quickly dashing back towards the control room, acutely aware of Rose following him. Even as he reached for the main doors, he knew who would be coming up on the other side, his ship having made it clear the incoming visitor was in need of help.

When he opened the door, his metacrisis self was only a few meters away from the TARDIS, his arms full of a still-unconscious Donna. Although the Doctor was anything but surprised by their apparition, he was instantly annoyed and frustrated; all he had to do was _look_ at the man’s face to know that in the short amount of time he’d been left on his own, he’d gone and done something he should not have done. Without consulting him first.

_Again_.

His counterpart did not give him time to snap at him. “Save it,” he said, out of breath. The closer he came, the paler he looked. “Help me carry her to the infirmary.”

The Doctor did not argue (yet), stepping into the night to join him, soon sharing Donna’s weight as they quickly walked through the TARDIS’ doors; Rose did not speak at all, staying out of their way as she followed once more, back to the infirmary. What had been an exam table only an hour ago was now a bed, upon which they laid Donna down.

He instinctively grabbed one of her arms, pressing his fingers to her wrist to find her pulse.

“What did you do?”

The question came from Rose.

When the Doctor looked at her, her brow was creased in concern, her eyes fixed on his counterpart as he moved around the room, going straight for the cabinet he himself had opened the last time he was in this room, soon swallowing a couple of pills without any water.

The other man wasn’t pale; he was _grey_, the dark frame of his spectacles contrasting with his sallow skin. There was tension in what appeared to be every inch of his body, his muscles locked and trembling slightly.

“_Doctor_,” Rose insisted, and the Doctor’s unease worsened at hearing her call his name like this, yet not being the focus of her worry at all.

“They needed a mind to…syphon the overload of knowledge out of her head,” the man in blue answered at last, not looking at any of them, his voice as tensed as the rest of his body. “It was a rather quick process, all things considered.”

Donna’s heartbeat pulsed slowly and steadily against the Doctor’s fingertips as he stared at his counterpart. His own hearts were not exactly slow, thumping against his ears in tandem with his anger.

“What does that mean for you?” Rose asked, hesitant yet clearly concerned.

The other Doctor shook his head, leaning back heavily against the counter – almost exactly where _he_ himself had stood half an hour ago, pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses, his eyes closed shut. “I’m all right.”

“Not what I asked,” Rose replied at once.

His counterpart reopened his eyes, dropping his hand. “I know,” he said in a soft tone the Doctor would have been reluctant to use.

A small layer of perspiration was forming on his forehead; from the look in his eyes as he stared at Rose, the Doctor could tell the other man wasn’t entirely…_there_.

He could almost hear the voices that had to be screaming in his head.

He released Donna’s wrist a tad abruptly, moving his hands up to her head to press his fingers to her temples, barely scanning her mind. That quick peek was enough to know that whatever the Theihraths had done, it had worked: most of the foreign memories were gone, although traces of them remained. Until she was awake, he would be unable to assess how it would affect her, though.

He did not need to read his counterpart’s mind to know what kind of mess he would find in there.

He would be ‘all right’, there was no doubt about it, his brain still Time Lord enough to have allowed him to sustain the metacrisis in the first place. All these memories he’d taken in had already been in there, after all, but this ‘doubling up’ would not be kind on his subconscious. Nightmares, migraines…

…whatever he was experiencing _now_.

The Doctor watched as Rose came to stand much closer to his counterpart, just like she had with him; his head was bent, his eyes closed, face constricted in pain – and it didn’t seem to only be the physical kind, his breathing loud and laboured.

“Hey…” Rose spoke softly yet decidedly, bringing a hand up to his face to cup his cheek, in another perfect rendition of how she’d touched _him_. “Look at me.” He did, opening his eyes, which were hazy and redder than usual. “Don’t get lost in there, yeah?”

Either her words or her touch seemed to have an effect on him; maybe both. The Doctor almost _felt_ the shift that occurred in his part-human self as he stared into Rose’s eyes.

Next moment, he was leaning down, his arms coming up to circle her waist, pressing his whole bloody face to her neck as he squeezed her to him, and the Doctor could tell she was squeezing him back just as tightly, the way she had held _him_ yesterday, back in the control room.

That was one memory he and his counterpart didn’t share, the dormant energy already trapped in his hand by then, making this the first time in years _this_ Doctor got to hold Rose Tyler in his arms.

She could tell.

The only reason why the Doctor was not leaving the room altogether was because his legs appeared to have turned into something heavy and quite unmovable. He was smart enough to know there was nothing rational about the feeling burning at the back of his throat; this man who’d sprouted out of him was as entitled to her touch as he himself had been, as long as she was willing to give it.

He was not the best at being rational where Rose was concerned, unfortunately.

The Doctor fished his screwdriver out of his pocket, scanning Donna’s body _loudly _for a good twenty seconds, the sound successfully putting an end to their moment. Although they did stop hugging, Rose did not move much from where she stood.

The scanning was, of course, worthless; when he met his counterpart’s reddened eyes a moment later, the less than friendly look they exchanged made it clear _he_ knew that much, too.

“She okay?” Rose asked, genuinely concerned.

When the Doctor fixed his stony glare on her, however, she nearly recoiled.

“I won’t tolerate this,” he spoke almost _too_ quietly. “The two of you, repeatedly acting on impulse.”

He was referring to the way they’d both behaved stupidly and put their minds and sanity at risk in the last two hours, but his vague criticism could easily be interpreted in many different ways – and he did not exactly try to clarify himself.

“You’re joking, right?” Rose asked, and there was a warning in her voice.

“I’ve never been less amused,” the Doctor told her.

“Or less sincere,” his counterpart said, his voice strained with…whatever he was still experiencing. “You’re not exactly known for your impulse control yourself.”

“I’m a Time Lord,” he declared, his voice low and gravelly. “I can afford to act impulsively when a situation requires me to be. You two can’t. Especially not _you_,” he added to his hybrid self with a sneer. “You’ve done enough damage as it is.”

“And what d’you mean by that, exactly?” Rose asked, but neither Doctors looked at her, too busy glowering at each other.

“He committed genocide,” the Doctor stated coldly. “Back on the Crucible. He murdered the entire Dalek race.”

There was a heavy pause.

“So have you, Doctor,” Rose said, breaking the silence. “And…so have I.”

He looked at her, his vision still narrowed by his pulsing anger. She never looked more different from the young Rose he first met years ago, standing tall next to his counterpart, not an ounce of regret coming out of her as she said these words.

“We’ve all murdered Daleks,” she continued, almost harshly. “Daleks and others.” She actually took a step closer to him, until she was standing between them. “You can’t possibly think it’s all right, for you to act all self-righteous when up ‘til yesterday, you two shared the _exact_ same experiences. And ’m really not any better. Four years 've spent trapped in that parallel world. I sure didn’t spend all these years just waiting for things to happen. I joined the fight. And as much as I tried honouring your memory, you’re the one who taught me there’s only so many chances you can give someone. So...my hands aren’t any cleaner than his. And neither are yours, Doctor.”

The silence that followed her words pressed heavily upon his hearts.

“Bloody hell, y’all really need to cool your beans,” Donna’s voice chimed in, sluggish and a tad groggy. “What’s happened to ‘hakuna your tatas’, uh?” A pause. “No, wait, that didn’t sound right. Oh, you know what I mean. Let’s just all…_relax_ and keep the genocidal pep talks for another day, what d’you say?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow these two boys are gonna have to learn to share, if you know what I mean. If you don't, I'll get you there :p
> 
> I'm going to try my best to update this story regularly, now. Any feedback would be lovely ♥


	8. Unbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Doctors struggle a bit with impulse control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since 2020 is turning out to be the worst year and it's only mid-February, I am hiding EXTRA HARD into my fictional coping mechanisms, hence the rather lengthy chapter. Do enjoy ;-)
> 
> (I had to edit most of this giant chapter on my ipad and it nearly killed me, please excuse any weird formatting/typos)

**Chapter Eight – Unbound**

“Name?”

“You know my name, dumbo.”

“Humour me. I want to know if _ you _ know your name.”

“Queen Elizabeth II.”

“You are not helping.”

“I’m fairly certain that me sitting there refusing to answer your stupid questions makes it rather clear I’m fine.”

“She’s got a point.”

The Doctor turned his glare on his metacrisis self, who until now had been blissfully quiet. He was still leaning heavily against the counter, arms crossed, his entire body locked with tension. Just by the looks of him, the Doctor could tell the painkillers had done their job, but not much else; his skin remained too pale, and the voice he’d spoken with was almost subdued.

“Are you planning on being useful at all, today?” the Doctor asked him. “So far, your contributions have been nothing but irritating and highly unhelpful.”

Rose, who’d been pacing further in the infirmary, stopped moving at his latest jab; he did not need to look at her to know she was about to tell him off again.

Donna got there first.

“Oi!” she snapped; sitting right in front of him, all she had to do was extend a hand to slap his shoulder – which she did, not exactly gently, the look on her face as disapproving as her interjection. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she almost demanded. “I’ve been awake five minutes, and you’ve spent half that time being _ vile_.”

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped with the slapping,” he told her, ignoring her remark the way he’d ignored many more, genuinely annoyed by her repeated physical abuse.

“Yeah? Well I’m sure _ he_’d appreciate it if you stopped with all the derogatory comments. You do realise you're being an idiot, right? You're literally the same _ person_.” When both Doctors merely glared at each other at this unwelcome reminder, their jaws similarly clenched, Donna peered at them. “What is up with you two?”

None of them replied, the Doctor avoiding looking at Rose, who stood in his peripheral vision, close enough to see she’d raised a hand to her face to nibble on her thumbnail, the way she often did when distressed.

Donna always was a quick study. 

While both men purposefully did _ not _ look at Rose, Donna glanced at the young woman, before looking back at the Doctor, her lips pursing in what could easily turn into a judgmental smirk.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked her before she could say anything that would make this uncomfortable situation even more uncomfortable.

“The two of you, bickering over my fate,” she replied sardonically, before turning to Rose. “Have they been like this the _ whole _ time?”

“Yeah,” Rose breathed out wearily, and the Doctor actually dared a proper look her way, finding her nearly as tensed as his counterpart, now holding on to her elbows, obviously worn out by the ongoing hostility.

Donna didn’t have to say anything, staring at both men in turn, her disapproval coming out of her in waves. The Doctor knew she was expecting some kind of apology from him, for being such an arse (he definitely owed Rose more than one), but he was in no mood to be lectured at the moment. 

When he saw his counterpart open his mouth, surely to speak these words he himself was too proud to say, the Doctor jumped in again:

“How about your memories?” he asked Donna. “Any trace of foreign knowledge?”

Donna looked up at him, unimpressed with the way he kept on deflecting. “You’re gonna have to be a tad more specific, Spaceman,” she said. “Tricky things, memories. If they’re in your head, they kinda feel like yours.”

“Does ‘The Master’ mean anything to you?” his part-human self asked, his voice still a lot more subdued than his.

Donna looked at the Time Lord Doctor, who’d winced at the unpleasant call-back, shaking her head. “Should it?”

“It would definitely ring a few warning bells if you still shared our mind,” the Doctor replied without thinking, before realising this might be the first time he acknowledged his metacrisis self as being part of him – without it being an insult. “What’s the square root of six-thousand-eight-hundred-and-eighty-nine?” he quickly carried on.

“Eighty-three,” Donna replied at once, and both Doctors made a similar noise, thoughtful yet intrigued. “What?” Donna defended herself. “Maybe I was always good at maths.” 

“You weren’t,” both men said, once again in perfect harmony.

While it caused Donna and both the Doctors to scowl, Rose let out a small, amused sound; when the Doctor looked at her, her hand was up to her face again, clearly trying to stifle her laughter.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice muffled, clearing up her throat as she dropped her hand, but her eyes twinkled in amusement and something close to relief, even as she blushed at being stared at by all three of them. “Does that mean she’s still a bit…like you?” she bravely asked, glancing from one Doctor to the other, not directing her question to any of them in particular.

The Doctor tilted his head, seeing his counterpart do the exact same thing from the corner of his eyes, and _ really_, this was going to get old real fast.

“The Theihraths said there might be some traces,” the part-human Doctor said. “Like…fingerprints on your mind,” he added to Donna, who thought about it, then shrugged.

“Ah well,” she said. “Better that than the alternative. Didn’t much fancy going back to being a temp.”

She smiled at this other Doctor, aware that _ he _ was mainly responsible for her still being...her. When said man had the nerves to smile back, the Doctor went back to scowling.

“Uhm,” Rose ‘spoke’, almost tentatively. “I know t’s not exactly a priority or anything but…d’you know what happened to that little Yesook?” 

She’d asked that question to the spectacles-wearing Doctor, whose eyebrows rose high above the frame. “Oh,” he said, before grimacing a little. “It clambered down when the Theihraths linked my mind with Donna’s,” he answered, a bit sheepish. “It’s probably still over there, unless they’ve released it into the wild.”

“Oh,” Rose said in turn, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. 

The Doctor, who was a little too aware that he was quite a few points behind his counterpart, jumped onto this opportunity to earn a few back. 

(Not that they were actually competing over her affection.)

“We can go take a look, if you want,” he offered, a tad too eagerly. “You and me,” he quickly added. “I want to have a word with Oq’i before we go, about what they’ve done.”

Rose’s look of sheer surprise was almost heart-breaking, as if she didn’t quite dare believe _ he _ had made the offer. 

The small, hopeful smile she gave him was both painful and beautiful.

“I’d like that,” she told him softly.

…

In hindsight, his plan had not been one of his best, well-thought out plans. Especially since he hadn’t actually _thought_ about it at all before leaping into action.

And yet, despite his discomfort and lingering aches, the Doctor couldn’t say he regretted his choice, not when it had done what he hoped it would do. 

Not only was Donna awake, she seemed..._sane_, and in no immediate danger.

What were a few auditory and proprioceptive hallucinations when you got to save your best friend’s life without erasing a good chunk of her memories?

Well. None of her _ own _ memories, anyway. 

Most of _ his _ were back where they belonged, albeit not very…tidily at the moment. If anything else, the pain inhibitors he'd taken were doing their job, having turned his splitting headache into something closer to a dim throbbing. Even the voices and the odd _ falling _ sensations had faded almost completely when he’d held Rose in his arms.

She was gone, now, once again keen to follow his original self. 

The stare the other man had fixed on him before they left the infirmary made it clear he knew what he was doing.

_ I’m not leaving you_.

His eyes squeezed shut, he shuddered again at the memory of her voice, so much more than a distant echo.

“You’re an idiot, too, you know that?”

The Doctor reopened his eyes, which felt feverish in their sockets, meeting Donna’s unimpressed glare, his ‘companion’ still sitting on the infirmary bed.

“So I’ve been told,” he replied wearily.

Her stern expression softened, as he knew it would; her empathy made it impossible for her not to be affected by the kind of ‘dejected-puppy’ look he knew himself to be making.

“I don’t approve of his arsy attitude, but you know he had a point, somewhere in the middle of all that grumpiness,” she told him.

He nodded. “Yep.”

He meant it, too, but he was tired of feeling like a faulty version of the man he still _ was _ twelve hours ago. 

Part of it came from other people’s perception of him, how they kept on reacting to him and his actions (original self definitely included), but the main culprit was no other than himself. He was a little too aware of his shortcomings in this hybrid form. 

There was something inherently upsetting in being yourself, just…_less_ than what you used to be, in many, many ways.

“Oi,” Donna interjected again, although a lot more quietly than she had a few minutes ago, and he refocused on her. “Don’t you dare jump onto that _ I am not worthy _train, Hand Boy. You’re way too brilliant for that. Thick, obviously, but still bloody brilliant in my book.”

He actually smirked a little at her brave attempt at cheering him up. “I’ll agree to get off that train, but only if you do, too.”

She peered at him. “Hilarious.” 

He shrugged tiredly. “I’ve already been accused once today of having inherited your sense of humour.”

“You wish,” she replied confidently. “I get the feeling Mister Grey Skies is gonna use every opportunity to claim the two of you are completely different entities. Don’t listen to him. I know you, Doctor, whether you like it or not. And you’re definitely, unquestionably stuck with his sense of humour.”

“Yippee,” he said, anything but cheered; he appreciated her efforts, but he was too achy, still on sensory overload and, generally speaking, uncomfortably _ human_. 

Wallowing in self-pity seemed like an absolutely reasonable option here. 

Unfortunately, his newfound excess of compassion only managed to make him feel guilty, remembering what his metacrisis twin had just gone through.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her, quietly.

She gave a vague shrug. “I’m all right.”

He stared at her; in their shared language, ‘all right’ wasn’t always all that right.

But Donna smiled, then, and it was genuine.

“I really am, though,” she told him softly. “It’s all a bit of a mess in there, not too sure what’s what, if you know what I mean, but I’m…_me _. For the most part. Memories and all, thanks to you,” she added with another kind smile. “Although I think there might be…bits of you floating around in there, too, you know?”

He nodded, his throat oddly tight, making it impossible for him to speak. Because…he did know.

More than he could ever put into words.

…

Rose forced herself not to read too much into the Doctor’s offer to walk back to the house with her. 

She was confused by his changing behaviour, about as confused as she was by this whole ‘_there are two Doctors_’ situation. The more she tried finding ways to differentiate both men, the more she was reminded of how alike they were.

Except when they interacted with her.

She wasn’t exactly surprised by how quiet they were as they left the TARDIS and made their way back to the alien’s house, although this unnatural silent still felt unnerving. Even though night had fallen, their way was lit by that giant moon; what had been a pale, blurry silhouette in the sky during daytime was now a bright orb. Rose was completely mesmerised by the sight of it for a minute, until she tripped over her own feet, only avoiding an embarrassing fall because the Doctor instinctively took a hold of her arm.

He did not linger, releasing her just as swiftly, still uncharacteristically mute. Rose went from observing the moon to observing him, his features particularly sharp in the moonlight, wondering for the umpteenth time today what might have happened to him to make him so much more…sullen than he used to be. 

She had no doubt that their forced and untimely separation had something to do with it, but she wasn't arrogant enough to presume losing her was enough to cause this kind of shift in him. He _ had _ been separated from companions before.

“I really am, you know,” he suddenly spoke, almost roughly, as if he was continuing a conversation he’d started in his head. “Sorry,” he concluded a moment later. “I'm sorry.”

He still didn’t look at her…until she reached down between them, tentatively brushing the top of his hand, before slowly intertwining their fingers together. 

He let her, soon returning the pressure, and the look in his eyes squeezed her heart.

“Yeah,” she told him softly. “I know.”

They reached the house much too soon; the moment they stood in front of the door, the Doctor released her hand to knock, and Rose’s stomach sank in disappointment. The door opened a few seconds later, and Rose immediately ignored Oq’i, successfully distracted by the furry ball perched on the alien’s shoulder. 

He made some kind of cooing, delighted noise at the sight of her, his fur quivering in glee as Rose beamed at the little creature.

“Hi!” she greeted her new furry friend, carrying on with ignoring the alien he was sitting on, reaching out a hand. The Yesook did not hesitate, swiftly rolling down Oq’i's arm before hopping onto her hand.

Just as Rose started lowering her arm, Oq’i reached for it, encircling her wrist in a grip that was surprisingly strong. The unexpected grasp caused Rose to startle in shock, experiencing an uncomfortable push in her mind that she already recognised as a telepathic prod.

The Doctor reacted before she did, one arm locking around her waist while his other hand grabbed her extended arm, swiftly pulling her away from the Theihrath. Oq’i didn’t resist, letting her go at once. 

The moment the Doctor released her, he turned back to face the small alien, his screwdriver out, the way she’d seen him threaten many enemies before. The sonic device remained as harmless as ever, but his stance and the warning behind it was often efficient enough.

“That wasn’t a wise move,” the Doctor spoke in a low, gravelly voice.

Oq’i did not seem perturbed in the least by his quiet fury. “We swore to protect the Yesooks,” they said. “I had to ensure the human meant it no harm.”

“You could’ve _ asked, _” Rose stated, rather cross herself, now, feeling the Yesook in question burrow himself in her hair against her neck. 

She never enjoyed being taken by surprise, a tad embarrassed that she hadn’t reacted fast enough and let the Doctor step in, as if she hadn’t spent the last few years training and working in the field. 

She’d also been left uneasy by the alien’s brief mental prod, her mind still raw after all the intrusions it’d sustained today.

“People lie,” Oq’i replied simply.

The Doctor had lowered his screwdriver, but he remained standing over the small Theihrath, giving out the kind of vibes Rose tended to associate with the Oncoming Storm.

“You did help my friend,” he said, his voice still lower than usual. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking we trust you. I hope for your sake that all of your actions tonight were truly benevolent.”

There was a definite warning in his voice, now, despite his words being rather vague.

“The extraction was successful,” Oq’i said. “That is the help you sought from us, and that is the help you received.”

To Rose, this answer sounded even more ambiguous.

The two aliens stared at one another, until the Doctor eventually spoke again: “The Yesook will be safe with us.”

Oq’i nodded slowly, before turning their eyes to Rose, who shivered in unease again, relieved when they turned and disappeared into their house, closing the door behind them.

The Doctor, although as quiet as he’d been in recent hours, was almost _ bursting _ with fury. 

When he abruptly turned around and started walking back towards the TARDIS in long strides, all Rose could do was follow, almost at a jog, his mind obviously set, looking like someone in need of a scapegoat – and Rose had a not-so-vague idea of who would bear the brunt of his anger.

“You’re not gonna make it all his fault again, are you?” she had to ask.

He stopped so abruptly that Rose almost walked into him. The look on his face when he turned to stare her down caused another shiver to run down her spine.

“What he did was _ foolish_,” he nearly snarled. “We know next to nothing about this planet or this species, and he gave them full access to his mind, and everything inside of it!”

“So what?” Rose asked.

His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, his face scrunched up in affront, as if he couldn’t believe she’d dared to ask.

“I mean, what are you afraid of, _ really_?” she insisted. “That this is gonna turn out to be some kind of big conspiracy, all meant to gather secret information about Time Lords? 'm all for being cautious, but this is more like, you being paranoid.”

“I'm not being paranoid.”

She stared at him. “Then what is it, uh? You’re telling me there’s no reason behind you rushing back to the TARDIS to shout at yourself besides…pettiness?” 

“I am not – ” he tried again, but she stopped him.

“Don’t,” she said firmly with a shake of her head, although her tone was quite soft. “Donna’s right. Your attitude towards him is...cruel, and it makes no sense. You _ know _ he’s only done what he’s done because he wanted to help her. His heart’s in the right place.”

“His _ heart _ is the problem,” he said, sharply. “Acting without a care for consequences, leaping into stupid situations with little to no regards for his safety or that of others. It’s all so…”

“…human?” Rose finished for him; her voice had remained soft, but there was a note of warning in that word.

He held her gaze for a couple of seconds, before averting his eyes, clenching his jaws. Rose’s heart was beating painfully fast inside her chest, her insides squeezing in a confusing mess of hurt, irritation and sorrow, still unable to understand how she could feel this conflicted and miserable while standing so close to him.

This had to stop.

“’s this how it’s gonna be, then?” she asked through her constricted throat.

He swallowed hard, before bringing his gaze back to hers; there was an odd look in his eyes, as if he was trying to distance himself from the situation.

“Like what’s gonna be?” he had the nerves to ask, and her irritation flared. 

“This,” she said, harshly. “_You_.” He looked away again, breathing in loudly through his nose, his own impatience taking over. “Acting like all of us being here’s just one big inconvenience to you.” 

Not only did he not deny it, the look on his face when he locked his gaze with hers again clearly stated that it might just be.

Just like that, Rose’s frustration faded, replaced by pain. 

She was aware that she’d romanticised her time with the Doctor while she was forced away from him, the way humans did indeed when grieving something lost to them; she’d longed for their warm and easy companionship, for the adventuring and the running and the laughing, for how he’d made her feel. Like there was not a place in the universe he wouldn’t take her, if she’d asked.

In all of her idolising, she’d almost forgotten this. How he could make her feel so small with just one look.

He was a Time Lord. A _ centuries _ old alien who was as brilliant as he could be arrogant.

She was just…Rose. 

A fleeting, decaying human girl from London.

It didn’t even matter, all these things she’d felt earlier when he’d entered her mind. She’d known for a long time that he cared for her, quite deeply at that, remembering him expressing his fear of losing her only weeks after meeting her. Yet it’d never been enough. 

Never enough for him to give in…to really let her in.

As she turned her head to stare at the large moon, her way forwards became clear.

“I’ll go."

She spoke the words quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Whenever we leave this place, you can just…I dunno,” she breathed out, before swallowing passed the lump in her throat. “Drop me off somewhere back on Earth, I guess. 'm not gonna stay if you don't want me to stay.” 

She herself didn’t want to give up on him, but she would not let herself become this..._clingy_, desperate person. The thought of leaving him broke her heart, but if her being here made him this miserable...she had to go.

She didn’t realise she was crying until his cool fingers were brushing her face, and she felt wetness between their skins. Her gaze was pulled from the moon to be drawn into his eyes instead, and she got lost in there, his hand fully cupping her cheek. 

Soon, he was pulling her in, both physically and…_else_. 

His forehead came to rest upon hers, even as he did something with their minds, quite different from everything else she’d experienced today, even from him. 

It was…gentler, inviting her _ in_, instead of invading her mind. Her consent was near instantaneous; so was his response, letting her _ feel _ what he couldn’t say.

_I don't want you to go... _

The tentative warmth of him wasn’t like anything she’d ever experienced, the soft intensity of this moment more intimate than any kiss she’d ever had, with anyone. She sensed that deep rooted longing, his sheer desperation at the idea of losing her again…along with a resignation that verged on fatalism; he was resigned to the fact that he _ was _ going to lose her, may it be sixty years from now, or in a less distant future, whenever she realised this other him could give her everything he couldn’t.

Rose couldn’t begin to understand his fears, especially regarding his more human self; while she recognised this other him as being another incarnation of the Doctor, _ this _Doctor was the man she’d jumped through dimensions for. 

She clang to his forearm as she countered his sorrow with her own rush of emotions, reacting instinctively, unabashed in the authenticity of her yearning for _ him_.

_ I came back for _ you, she thought, as loud as she could, far too novice at this to be able to let him _ hear _ the words. She let them swell through him instead, until he was letting out a quivery gush of air, so close to her lips…

…and then it all stopped.

Although the rift between their minds was sudden, it was, once again, almost gentle, drawing her out like a breeze blowing on a flame. She found herself out of his head, just as he found himself out of her space, watching as he walked away from her for the second time in as many hours.

She let him.

…

Experiencing a bit of a high for a day or two after regenerating had become somewhat of a tradition, the overload of energy in his cells making it impossible for him to sit still, or not to see everything in a rather hopeful, optimistic light. 

As he stepped out of the shower and got dressed in that blue suit again, the Doctor noted that whatever had been left of his latest high had dissipated for good, the process sped up even more by the ripples of his impromptu 'mind-drain' with Donna. By the time he was leaving the infirmary, a short while ago, he was feeling more than a little rough, hoping that a shower might help improve his worsening mood. 

He’d been too...sticky, his part-human body apparently decided on reacting to any kind of stress or physical exertion by _ sweating_, extensively. It made sense, really, given his sudden increase in body temperature. Still, this awareness of a myopic body he could no longer control (nowhere as well as he used to) did nothing to make him feel better.

If anything else, the TARDIS had been kind to him, fashioning him a room that was nearly identical to the one he’d used for the last five hundred years or so, even putting a couple of brown suits in his personal wardrobe, amongst the few blue ones – contrary to popular beliefs, he _ did _ change regularly. He just...rarely changed style.

While he’d worn that blue suit from time to time back when he was fully Time Lord, the outfit already felt different, almost…alienating (ironically enough), efficiently setting him apart from his original self. From the ‘proper’ Doctor.

All of which was beyond unpleasant and more than a little disheartening, to be perfectly honest, considering he still very much felt like ‘the proper Doctor’, even with all his human limitations. 

Forced out of his room, out of his clothes, nearly out of his own bloody ship’s mental field, too.

Thankfully, despite his significant loss when it came to telepathic abilities, his connection to the TARDIS was still there, albeit dimmer than it used to be, requiring a lot more focus from him. He’d already gone back to using touch to communicate with his ship, as he would with any nascent telepathic bond – ignoring the fact that this particular bond felt centuries old to him. 

As far as the TARDIS was concerned, she still recognised him as the Doctor, used to his many shifting acts by now. She made that clear again the next time he placed a hand to the wall of his room, telling him what he wanted to know: while Donna was in her room, his original self had yet to come back on board.

His entire focus changed when he realised Rose _ had _made it back, now in her room, too. The TARDIS gave him a nudge, indicating that his former companion could use a visit. 

The nudge, although appreciated, was not necessary.

He felt a little too flushed as he made his way to her, this new body never missing an opportunity to physically display every single one of his emotions, his nervous system left raw after what he’d put himself through.

Still, he forced himself to look composed and absolutely in control of his human receptacle when he knocked on her door, ignoring the fact that his throat was already closing up at this simple gesture. 

It’d been a few years since he’d been able to do that.

His efforts became futile the moment Rose opened the door, and she looked up at him with eyes that were red and swollen, part of her cheeks glistening in the dim light, as if she’d attempted to wipe her face – and failed.

His single heart sank straight to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself uttering without thinking.

Rose frowned as she distractedly wiped at her nose, which was still leaking a little. “What for?” she asked, her voice thick with tears he didn’t see her cry.

“No idea,” he admitted a bit clumsily, his face suddenly warm again. “You’re just...obviously upset, and I feel like I should apologise for it.”

_For him_, he didn’t say – although they both heard it. 

They’d had this conversation already, back in the wardrobe, about him trying to apologise for his counterpart; Rose looked as crestfallen as she had then, if not worse.

There was a small noise from inside the room, and the Doctor briefly looked away from Rose’s tired eyes, spotting the colourful ball of fluff on her bed, its antennae drooping, obviously sensing her distress. 

He was briefly distracted as he took in her room, only now noticing how different it looked from the way it used to be.

“Did the TARDIS empty your room?” he couldn't help but ask with a frown, surprised by this unusual behaviour from his ship. Rose’s small head shake drew his eyes back to her, meeting her gaze at once, finding her still staring at him.

His heart was definitely back in his chest, already beating a little bit too fast.

“Asked her to do it,” she admitted quietly. “It’d feel too weird, being back here with all my old stuff, you know?”

He nodded, even as he thought there was a conversation to be had, here, one he would genuinely enjoy having, too, more than a little curious to hear about the last few years of her life, about the person she had become during their time apart. 

Now wasn’t the right time for that kind of heart-to-heart, though, not when she was visibly upset. 

He wanted to ask her what had happened, what _ he_’d said or done. He did not ask, did not need to. He’d _ been _ him long enough to know it all already; how she’d undoubtedly tried reaching out, only to be shut down.

Again.

It was an odd, dissociating feeling, to be able to inherently understand his original self’s motives, all the while finding them almost...inconceivable.

How could one _ possibly _reject her?

Rose slumped heavily against the doorjamb, looking up at him with a tired, thoughtful pout.

“I don’t get it,” she admitted quietly. When he raised an eyebrow in question, she shook her head. “Him,” she breathed out. “You. How this seems to be one big nightmare for him, while you’re just being...kind to me.”

The Doctor swallowed hard, his throat too tight, thinking carefully about what to say. If he were being petty (the way his original self kept on being) this would be the perfect opportunity to create a wedge between them, to pull her away from _ him _ and closer to himself.

He couldn’t bring himself to do it, though.

“I know it’s hard to understand given the very nature of this mess but...what you have to remember is that, if I was still..._him_, I would behave exactly the same way. Just like he would behave like me, if he could.”

“That’s what I don’t get, though,” she said, and although her voice was soft and low, there was a hint of frustration in it. “You all keep on saying you’re the same, and I can...sense that, too, most times. Yet you’re both acting like two completely different people when you’re around me. _You _ seem happy enough to have me here. He doesn't. But he won't let me leave either. It’s just...confusing.”

“I know,” he said quietly, almost apologetically. “But I...he...” He stopped, struggling with finding the right words. “We _ are _ the same, save for some physiological differences and quirks. What's causing us to behave so differently is due to...very different mind-sets, really.”

When she merely kept on frowning, he continued: “Perception is everything, especially in a situation like this one. Think about it this way: if you go into any situation already thinking you’re gonna fail, chances are you’re gonna fail. But if you approach it in a more positive way...” He shrugged. “Do you see what I mean?”

She shrugged, too. “Kind of, yeah.”

“He’s acting the way he is, because from the moment he realised I’d sprouted out of him, he told himself...that was it,” he said quietly. “That you and me, we would stay in the other universe, living our normal human life together, while he would be left behind, all on his own.”

Rose averted her gaze at these words, her eyes filling with new tears.

The Doctor slowly brought a hand to her face, gently pushing her chin up with a finger, until she was looking back at him. Even when she did, he didn’t lower his hand, his thumb lightly brushing the soft skin over her jawline.

“He’s still trapped in that mind-set,” he continued softly. “He’s convinced you’d be better off with me, that you deserve...better. Which is a tad ironic, considering I don’t think of myself as being worthy of you any more than he does. I’m just...incredibly grateful to have you back here, with me – with us. And the thing is, I get to be the selfish one because he’s already taken on the role of the martyr. That's why I can behave with you the way he desperately wants to behave with you, too.”

He was cupping her cheek in his palm, now, his part-human body unable to cope with her proximity without seeking more of it, more of her, overcome with a new flurry of sensations at all these incoming stimuli. She wasn’t even _ doing _ anything, merely leaning into his touch. 

But these eyes of hers were like magnets, as was her entire body, or her very breath.

He was too aware of her, his senses still acute enough to register the smell of her every time he breathed in, wondering if he could really feel the heat radiating from her, the way it was radiating from him, or if his muddled mind was just making it all up, shivering a little more forcefully every time she exhaled upon his wrist, his gaze soon transfixed on her slightly parted lips.

The stirring in his guts was nothing new, yet it had never felt this strong, and certainly not this..._deep_, aching to reach more of her, touch more of her...to prove what he had just told her.

When he managed to pull his gaze up from her lips, her eyes seemed to be asking for the same thing.

_ Show me._

He was not entirely in charge of his second hand sinking into her hair, all the while incredibly aware of every move he made in that moment, of every sensation sizzling through his nervous system as he twisted his fingers in her hair and pulled her to him.

Any resistance from her...the slightest hint of hesitation, and he would let her go.

There was none.

She let him capture her mouth, let him suck her lower lip between his as she wrapped her arms around him and _ squeezed_, silently pleading to be held closer, tighter. He responded keenly, the hand that wasn’t lost in her hair coming back down to circle her waist and press her to him. 

The Doctor pinned her to the jamb just as swiftly, their kissing already deepening in a languid meeting of tongues and rolling hips, all of which were causing every cell of his body to become flushed with heat. He was soon convinced that the repeated graze of her nails across his scalp, along with the caress of her tongue and the sway of her hips would be enough to break him completely, split him right in half, unable to keep himself from pressing _ harder _ into her.

She shivered against him...a long and strong kind of tremor that traveled through her entire body as she let out a raspy sound into his mouth, all of which were more than a little encouraging, urging him on. 

It was his absolute lack of _ control _ that suddenly frightened him, enough to shock him back into his senses.

He released her as abruptly as he’d grabbed her, until he was properly standing in the corridor again, his back turned as he tried breathing more deeply, feebly attempting to regain some semblance of composure.

“I’m – ” His first attempt at speaking was not successful, his voice hoarse and oddly constricted. “Sorry,” he breathed out, fighting with his new urge to lean back against the wall and let himself slide to the ground, his legs seemingly made of cotton. 

He compromised with himself; while he did lean against the wall, slightly bent forward with his hands on his knees, he made an effort to remain on his feet, eventually daring a glance towards Rose over the rim of his glasses – the lenses of which had become slightly fogged up.

To be fair, she looked equally flustered, still using the doorjamb as support herself, her face a beautiful shade of pink.

“‘t’s okay,” she told him, sounding and looking as breathless as him, and _ blimey_, the way she was staring at him made it hard for him not to take that step back and resume what they had been doing. “You alright?” she asked then, obviously perceptive enough to understand he was feeling a tad overwhelmed.

He nodded, still feeling feverish and very much affected, but he was at least able to _ think _ for himself again.

Well.

Kind of.

“I...” he tried, before swallowing hard. “This body...really likes yours,” was all he managed to say.

Rose’s lips quivered in the shadow of a smirk. “Yeah, I can tell...” she told him, but even as he felt himself blush a little harder, she frowned: “D’you mean it didn’t...like it before?”

“Oh, it very much did like it before, too,” he corrected himself. “There just seems to be a...uhm, an added bunch of sensory driven reactions to this particular body that my Time Lord body didn’t, or doesn't – ” His voice briefly faltered. “See, _ physical _ displays of affection of an intimate nature are – ” He stopped himself again before his babbling made things worse. “All I’m trying to say is that..._this _ kind of physicality doesn’t come as...naturally for Time Lords.”

He was doing a poor job at explaining the intricate nature of attraction and intimacy in Gallifreyans – but to be fair, a lot of his blood was still being diverted _ away _ from his brain.

“Okay,” was all Rose eventually said, her voice soft and genuinely understanding, kindly letting him off the hook for now. Even the look in her eyes was familiar; it was the kind of sympathetic look that usually preceded being _ hugged _ by Rose Tyler.

The Doctor had to avert his eyes, because he really, _ really _ wanted to be hugged by Rose Tyler.

He wanted to pin her to him again. 

He wanted to feel her move the way she’d been moving only moments ago, because surely the tight, shifting feel of her against him would help him release some (if not all) of that aching tension in that place where all of that stolen blood was still gathering. 

The _ uncontrollable _nature of the thought itself was enough to keep him from acting on it, filled with renewed dread and anxiety at the realisation of how tricky managing this human receptacle might turn out to be.

“I’m just gonna...” He pointed towards the other end of the corridor, barely daring a glance at her, catching a glimpse of her nod as he shuffled away.

Before long, the Doctor was back in the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He just likes to keep clean, ok? Don’t you let your mind come up with any other scenario.
> 
> Real Life really is a bit of a challenge at the moment, so I'm not too sure how often I'll be able to update this story. Thank you so much for your ongoing support though; any feedback on this chapter would be lovely and much appreciated ♥


	9. Noble Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna is surrounded by idiots, and she's not impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still hiding in this fic, so here comes another chapter. Do enjoy them while they come haha. Thank you so much for all your support, it means more than you know *smooches*

**Chapter Nine – Noble Intentions **

Everyone inside the ship felt the characteristic jolt of the TARDIS dematerialising from the planet’s surface. No one immediately went to join the Time Lord in the control room, however, being either otherwise occupied, or not particularly eager to be face to face with a rather moody alien.

Donna was the first to leave her room, a few minutes later, anything but surprised when she emerged in the control room and found it already empty, the Doctor undoubtedly hiding somewhere in the bowels of his ship. She spent some time at the console, running her fingers over knobs, buttons and levers. 

Although she could no longer decipher the symbols displayed on the screen the way she had a couple of days ago, she still felt...connected to the TARDIS in an odd, intangible way. She knew they were currently in the Time Vortex, and felt like it wouldn’t take too much effort for her to actually send the ship somewhere, if she really set her mind to it.

She didn’t, more interested in getting some food in her stomach at the moment, deciding to let the Doctor sulk in peace for now.

Rose was already in the kitchen, having had the same idea, currently sitting at the table, munching on some cereals.

“Good morning!” Donna greeted her, having long ago learned not to care much about the actual _time_ of the day on this particular ship, but Rose’s choice of food had just reset her internal clock.

“Hi,” Rose replied almost cautiously as Donna opened a couple of cabinets to grab everything she needed to make herself some toasts. When she put everything down on the table, Rose indicated the kettle. “There’s plenty of hot water left.”

Donna quickly got herself a cup of tea, and for a couple of minutes, they sat together in near silence, if not for the sounds of their chewing and drinking. Every time Donna looked at her, Rose was always swift to look away, visibly tensed and somewhat uncomfortable.

“What’s with the shifty attitude?” Donna eventually asked, more curious than bothered, spreading an extra layer of marmite on her toast.

“‘m not...shifty,” Rose denied at once and Donna rolled her eyes, taking a bite of her food.

“Is it the metacrisis thing creeping you out?” She asked through her mouthful of bread. “‘cause that’s pretty much gone, if not for some weird side effects. Including talking with my mouth full, apparently.”

Rose shook her head, having stopped chewing on her cereal to distractedly gnaw on her lower lip instead.

“D’you remember...meeting me?” she eventually asked, tentatively. “Before London and the Crucible, I mean.”

Donna sipped on her tea and nodded. “You’re talking about that weird pocket universe, aren’t you?” she asked, and it was Rose’s turn to nod. “It’s all very foggy, to be honest. I mostly remember it being depressingly gloomy. That and getting hit by a truck.”

Judging by the way Rose’s face paled at her words, she remembered it, too.

Donna waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it, love. It really all feels like a bit of an intense nightmare. It was weirder coming back to myself and putting the pieces together, realising I had actually met and talked to _Rose Tyler_.”

“What d’you mean?” she asked with a frown, and Donna almost scoffed.

“Do you have any idea how long that grumpy Time Lord of ours has been pining over you? He nearly had a heart attack when I gave him your warning about the stars going out and told him about ‘Bad Wolf’. Well, hearts attack, I suppose.” 

Rose blushed at her words, playing with what was left of her cereals; the young woman seemed to have _no clue_ about the void she’d left in her wake, or about the ghost of her, haunting this ship for as long as Donna had been on it, even when she’d been nothing more than a fleeting passenger herself.

This was the perfect opportunity for them to have a heart-to-heart, to talk about the Time Lord’s attitude and motives behind his recent choices. 

Donna chose to remain quiet instead. Rose looked...tired. 

She looked like someone who hadn’t allowed herself to slow down much in recent days – or weeks. The ongoing tension on the ship was clearly taking its toll on her, too. 

Maybe she could use a bit of a pep-talk, after all.

Before she could say anything, the door opened again, revealing a Doctor dressed in blue, with glasses perched on his nose. The sight of him entering the room was a bit of a surprise to Donna, as he’d rarely been in here with her during all their months of traveling. Although she knew the Doctor ate, he didn’t eat often. She’d gotten used to eating on the go by herself, finding food wherever their adventures took them, otherwise popping in the kitchen to grab something to munch on on her way to her room. 

Donna looked at Rose, curious to see her reaction to his apparition. She did not disappoint – neither did he, the two of them suddenly _blushing _like school children at the sight of the other, swiftly averting their eyes, avoiding looking at one another.

Oh, this was going to be entertaining.

“I – ” the Doctor bravely attempted, and failed.

For a few seconds, there was nothing but a heavy kind of silence, except for Donna, who was back to sipping on her tea.

“Did you get some sleep?” the Doctor tried again, his question obviously directed towards Rose, whose cheeks remained rather pink.

“Some, yeah,” she answered quietly. “You?”

“Not really,” he admitted, before clearing his throat.

Rose was now hiding behind her cup of tea, while the Doctor went to grab the loaf of bread from the counter, not even bothering with slicing it up before tearing off a big chunk of it with his teeth.

“I had a lovely kip myself, since you didn’t ask,” Donna finally chimed in with a sweet voice, probably a tad too amused by the way they both froze again, as if only now remembering they were not alone in the room.

When the Doctor finally met her gaze, Donna gave him _a look_, the kind of look that let him know she was no fool, and that she had a pretty good idea of what might have happened between the two of them, to cause them to be suddenly so skittish around one another. 

The resulting flash of panic in his eyes was enough to keep her from teasing them, though.

“Some tips on being a well-mannered part-human, Spaceboy,” she said instead, pointing at the loaf in his hand. “What you just did to that bread is usually frowned upon. Most people would slice it up before shoving it into their mouth. You are also allowed to take a seat at the table with us.”

He did, sitting down opposite Rose, who remained quiet as she stared at him over the rim of her cup.

Donna _really _wanted to tease them.

She stayed strong, settling for smirking a little as she went back to eating her toast, the Doctor now trying to salvage the damage he’d done to the loaf, his cheekbones adorably pink under his specs.

She used this opportunity to take a proper look at him, taking in the blue suit, shirt and tie, noting that his face was more stubbled than she’d ever seen it.

“You’re gonna need to shave,” Donna told him. 

He scowled as he spread jam over his wonky piece of bread. “I shaved yesterday.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you probably gonna have to shave everyday, now. Unless you’re ready to embrace the scruffy look.”

“Brilliant,” he muttered as he aggressively chewed on his bread, obviously not that enamoured with his human traits at the moment.

“I kinda like it.”

Both Donna and the Doctor turned their gaze on Rose, who swiftly went back to blushing a little, giving a small shrug.

“I mean, I like the clean look just fine, too, but...” Her tentative voice trailed off. “Dunno...” she breathed out as she shrugged again. “It looks good on you.”

Donna was having a bit too much fun observing the pair, who still struggled to maintain eye contact; although the Doctor was now staring at Rose, she herself seemed deeply interested in what was left of her soggy cereals. 

From the look on her metacrisis twin’s face, she doubted he would ever pick up a razor again.

“Speaking of your looks, what’s up with you and that blue thing?” Donna asked him.

He dragged his eyes away from Rose with some obvious difficulty, frowning at Donna. “What do you mean?”

“Are you planning on wearing that suit all the time, now? What happened to the brown one?”

She knew perfectly well why he wasn’t wearing brown anymore, but she wasn’t too pleased with the reasons.

The Doctor briefly clenched his jaws as he brought a hand to his face, distractedly scratching at his tiny stubble. “The brown suit has been claimed,” he stated flatly.

“By whom?” Donna asked, unfazed.

He peered at her over the rims of his glasses. “Just say whatever it is you want to say,” he told her, his tone similar to the one his counterpart had been using extensively in recent hours.

“Don’t be such a wimp,” she did say, point blank, causing his eyebrows to go up in surprise, then down in affront. “You’ve got just as much right as him to wear that brown suit,” she carried on, firmly. “Unless you came to be in that body suddenly hating the colour, or that you’ve decided blue matches your eyes better. But since I know it’s neither of these things, all it really means is that you’re just trying to avoid more conflict by being ‘nice’ again. Hence the wimp comment.”

He carried on scowling at her, but he did not deny it either, eventually shrugging stiffly. “Even if you’re right, I figured different outfits would make things...easier.”

“Easier how?’’ Rose was the one to ask this time, her voice still tentative, yet soft.

He bravely met her gaze. “To tell us apart,” he said, and there was a small catch in his voice. “I’m aware that this is confusing enough as it is.”

Rose frowned a little; now that they were looking at each other, they seemed quite reluctant to stop. 

“I can’t speak for Donna, but...I’m pretty sure I can tell you apart already,” she told him quietly. “And even if you go back to wearing brown and I sometimes get confused...” She shrugged. “Does it really matter? You’ll both be the Doctor.”

While watching these two trying to communicate had been entertaining, Donna almost wished she was standing instead of sitting, closer to the door, too, so she could sneak out and leave them alone.

“In any case, the scruff and the goggly specs kinda give you away on their own, you know,” she spoke instead, putting an end to their little moment.

They _finally_ broke eye contact, having obviously forgotten Donna was there again – something she should get used to, really, as she had the feeling it was going to happen quite a lot.

“All right, you two,” she said as she stood up. “I’m gonna give you some time to talk. Or, you know, not talk. Whatever floats your boat.”

She gave these two blushing idiots a wink before escaping the kitchen, her mind now set on finding the third idiot on that ship.

She could not say she was impressed with what little she’d seen of the other Doctor’s behaviour, but it wasn’t exactly hard to understand why he was being such a prat, unable not to feel for the man. He was obviously isolating himself on purpose, between his prickly, unpleasant attitude or the fact that he seemed prone to hiding, while his metacrisis self and Rose were spending more and more quality time together.

Donna tried the control room again, having spent enough time living in close quarters with him to know one of his ‘go-to’ activities when feeling particularly miserable was to crawl under the console and pretend his ship was in need of fixing.

Sure enough, the sounds of tinkering reached her ears as soon as she walked into the room.

She found the place where he’d detached some of the grating, settling down on the ground to peer inside the hole, seeing his feet and part of his legs. “You all right down there, Spaceman?”

“Absolutely fantastic,” he replied quickly enough, his muffled voice dripping with sarcasm. “_Molto bene_.”

Donna shifted around to lean back against the base of the console, sighing loudly enough for the sound to reach him. “I thought we’d agreed not to lie to each other when it came to our crappy feelings.”

“I don’t remember ever agreeing to such a deal.”

“Might have been one of these times I was talking at you and you were just agreeing to everything I said. Either way, you agreed to it. So, no lying.”

He made a noise, like a disapproving grunt, but that was it.

“Doctor,” she insisted, not unkindly.

“What do you want me to say?” he eventually spoke again. “Am I struggling with everything currently going on? Maybe I am a little bit.”

Donna reached down through the opening, finding one of his legs and _pinching_, causing him to let out a pained, offended noise. 

“I was being honest!” he exclaimed in a high-pitched voice.

“I know,” she said without remorse. “But I’m gonna keep on doing this until you stop hiding from me and come out of these holes you’re digging yourself in.”

He grumbled-grumbled under his breath, but he’d lived with her long enough to know she meant it. Less than a minute after he began shuffling down there, his head popped out of the opening, his hair a mess, his brow creased in a familiar glower, his dark, irritated eyes slightly augmented by his own pair of spectacles.

Never one to be intimidated by this Time Lord’s antics, she patted his greasy cheek affectionately. “Good boy.”

He pushed her hand away with an annoyed click of his tongue, still glowering away, before he extracted himself from the hole in one lanky yet fluid movement. He set the piece of grating back into place a tad loudly, before sitting down next to her, his legs similarly stretched out in front of him as he rested his head against the base of the console.

She looked at him as he took off his glasses and tucked them away, his face already back to being depressingly...blank. 

He did look like someone who was a bit fed up with it all.

“So,” she started, a bit too perky. “How long are you gonna keep this up?”

He let his head roll sideways to look at her. “Keep what up?”

She gave him the kind of look she’d offered his counterpart not ten minutes ago, reminding him that she would not be fooled. “I’m on your side, you know,” she said. “If you think I’m gonna allow you to carry on wallowing in self-pity, you’re in for a surprise – and a lot more slapping and pinching.”

He let out a long sigh. “I really don’t know why I let you hang around my ship. You’re so...mean.”

“Evil, truly,” she replied. “But I’m hard to live without once you get used to me.”

She gave him a small smile that was a bit sad, too, considering what had almost happened to her, and he swallowed hard. He _did _reach between them, though, finding her hand and giving her fingers a tight squeeze. 

It did not last long, quickly releasing her, but it spoke volume.

She leaned sideways until her shoulder was bumping his. “C’mon...” she told him quietly. “Talk to me.”

He didn’t for a while, but she gave him time to stew on it; she was familiar enough with the man to know he was trying, just...struggling with the ‘voicing things out’ part of communication.

“I don’t...fit in this new equation,” he eventually said. “I’m the outlier.”

She peered at him. “You know how much I like it when you start speaking in riddles. If you’re trying to say you’re feeling left out, just _say _it.”

“_Fine_,” he almost snapped...still not saying anything at all.

“You do realise this whole ‘isolating thing’ that’s happening is mostly all your fault, right?” she asked him, not unkindly. “If you keep on snapping at people before crawling under the grating instead of mingling, you’re bound to be left out.”

He shrugged. “It’s better that way,” he said, his voice lower; thicker, too.

She looked at him, her heart squeezing at the sad resignation she sensed oozing out of him.

“I don’t get you,” she admitted quietly, and he turned his head to look at her. “I _know _what this woman means to you.” He looked away, swallowing hard. “I was there right after you lost her. I saw the mess you were, and never really stopped being, to be honest. I was there the other night, too, when you found her again.” She shook her head. “She _chose _to stay here. She left her whole family behind to be with you again, and you’re just...pushing her away.”

The next time he exhaled, the air quivered out of his lungs.

“She’s got him, now...” he spoke very quietly, and she’d never heard him sounding this...defeated.

“Maybe she does,” Donna conceded, because from everything she’d sensed and seen so far, it was a matter of time before the other pair figured things out indeed. “It doesn’t mean she can’t have you, too, though.”

The Doctor frowned deeply at these words, as if the idea had never even crossed his mind. 

His frown quickly turned into another glower. “You can’t possibly be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

“Maybe I am,” Donna said, unabashed. “I don’t think she’s figured that out yet, and neither has he, because you really all are a bunch of idiots with too many feelings and disastrous communication skills, but I will shamelessly keep on stirring that pot until something comes out of it.”

There was a heavy pause.

“I suppose it would be pointless of me to ask you to mind your own bloody business, eh?”

She gave his leg a quick pat. “See, you _are _learning.” When he merely scowled some more, she bumped his shoulder again. “No harm done in you just thinking about it, all right? This really doesn't need to be such a convoluted, melodramatic mess. Rose’s a big girl, and quite a tough, independent one at that. She’ll do whatever she wants. Just...don’t be a _thick _idiot, giving her up on ‘principles’ because you’re too proud to let your guard down. She already made her choice a long time ago, remember?”

He started a little at that, giving her an odd look.

Donna shrugged, unable to explain the various things that popped into her head, today. She moved, then, getting back up more or less gracefully, aware that she had pushed more than enough for the time being.

She found herself tapping away on the console as soon as she stood in front of it.

“What are you doing?” the Doctor asked as he sprang to his feet, sounding a tad uneasy.

Still, he did not stop her, obviously more intrigued than concerned by what she was doing.

“No idea!” she exclaimed with a bit of a manic grin. “Got the itch to do it, so I scratched it. Feels a bit like muscle memory, if you know what I mean. Can’t say I have a clue what’s gonna happen when I do..._this_, though.” 

On these words, Donna slapped a lever, and the time rotor came into life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If that weren't obvious enough with this chapter (and everything else I've written), I REALLY love Donna and her Doctor(s) :’)
> 
> I believe this chapter concludes the first part of this fic...which will have at least three big parts, according to all my notes O_O Emphasis on ‘at least’ hahahaaaa. Time for some adventuring, now ;-) 
> 
> As always, any feedback from you would be lovely ♥


	10. The Cow Didn't Start the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who let Donna play with the console?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience, and for all your support. This year is INSANE, guys. It's been hitting me really hard, on a personal level, and now there's all the other stuff going on worldwide. _Please_ stay safe ♥

**Chapter Ten – The Cow Didn’t Start the Fire**

Given the way she and the (Human) Doctor had parted ways a few hours ago, some awkwardness and tension was to be expected. Said tension managed to reach an uncomfortable level when Donna left them alone in the kitchen.

Rose was self-aware enough to know she was mostly responding to _his_ reactions; watching him behave like a blushing teenager was making her regress quite a few years herself – although no amount of snogging with Jimmy had ever gotten her as worked up as their brief moment against her doorjamb had.

To say she was living in a constant state of confusion at the moment was a bit of an understatement. Her rational mind was struggling to reconcile clear facts with all these conflicting emotions coming at her from all ends.

There were two Doctors. These two Doctors were _technically_ the same person...except for the things that set them apart and made them into two distinct entities. These differences weren’t just caused by the metacrisis thing either.

While one of them seemed absolutely torn at the idea of having her on board, yet had gone as far as begging her to stay with his _mind_, the other was responsible for Rose’s restless sleep, left unable to calm down after their...‘late night’ encounter.

That same Doctor seemed extremely interested in his piece of toast at the moment, back to avoiding eye contact at all cost, while Rose could not stop staring at him. Despite the fact that he was wearing his typical ‘Doctor outfit’, suit, shirt and tie included, there was something almost...dishevelled about him.

It wasn’t just the particularly messy hair, the five o’clock shadow peppering his skin, or the circles getting darker under his eyes, behind the frames of his spectacles.

Not only did he look like someone who wasn’t getting enough sleep, he also looked...frazzled. Like he was trying to keep an appearance of perfect composure, but was really just failing at it.

For someone as guarded as she’d always known the Doctor to be, this sudden inability to even _act_ collected must be all kinds of distressing.

“Are you okay?” she finally asked him quietly, after another long stretch of silence.

He stopped his chewing, his brow rising a little as he met her eyes.

“I just thought…” Her voice trailed off, not wanting to say the wrong thing. “No one’s probably taken the time to ask _you_ how you’re coping with this. With…being a lot more human than you were two days ago, I mean.”

He swallowed what was left of his toast, already looking away as he ruffled the hair at the back of his head. “I’m...coping,” he eventually replied, his voice as tentative as his answer. “Depends on the situation, really. Most of the time, I just feel like..._me_. A ‘me’ with quite a few more limitations, obviously. But then there are moments when I just – ” He stopped, his cheeks taking on a soft, pink tinge. “All these chemical imbalances in my bloodstream are really not helping.”

Rose kept herself from smiling. “Is that weird English for ‘hormones’?”

“Hormones, pheromones…” He shook his head. “All these frisky little molecules that don’t seem to care much about my opinion and just pour through my systems or out of me whenever I – ”

He wasn’t able to finish that sentence either, but from the darkening colours in his cheeks and the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes, Rose knew herself to be definitely responsible for these unfortunate reactions.

“Don’t Time Lords have those too, though?” she couldn’t help but ask, both aware that by ‘Time Lords’ she really meant the other _him_. She was as fascinated as she was confused by this new duality thrown into her life.

The Doctor tilted his head this-and-that. “Yes, and...no,” he said. “Time Lords do have similar hormones, but they also happen to be a lot better at regulating anything that has to do with their physiological functions. _We_ decide when to release...anything that needs to be released. Well, not me, not anymore, I suppose. This body…” He swallowed hard. “This body just does it, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Rose’s own cheeks had been steadily warming up throughout this conversation; she knew herself to be blushing fiercely, now, unable to keep looking at him.

What had happened outside her room was the first time the Doctor hadn't been able to control himself around her, in all their months of living in close quarters. If anything else, this new piece of information explained how they were able to travel together for so long without their many hugs ever turning into…something more. After what he’d just said, she _had _to wonder how often exactly he’d repressed the kind of urge that had overtaken him a few hours ago.

As the back of her neck tingled, she instinctively looked back at him. She met his gaze across the table, and her insides dipped at the intensity of his stare, wondering how long it would be before he lost control again.

(If she didn’t lose it first.)

“I meant to thank you,” the Doctor said a bit clumsily. It successfully broke the moment, Rose frowning in confusion. “That’s…why I came to your room in the first place," he added. "I wanted to thank you for standing up for me, back in the infirmary. You didn’t have to.”

She did smile this time; it was brief and still a bit unsure, but it was genuine.

“He's being very unfair to you,” she said quietly. “I know there's probably a lot of self-loathing going on there, but that doesn't mean he should be allowed to talk to you the way he is. You’ve been a lot more patient with him than me. Or Donna.”

He shrugged a bit stiffly. “He's...me,” he said, as if it explained everything - and in some ways, it did. “I suppose that makes me better at understanding his reactions, and at tolerating them to some extent. Although according to some, I'm just being a wimp.”

Rose couldn’t help the small laughter that escaped her, smiling more brightly than she had in recent hours. She tried to put her straight face back on, but given the way he was staring at her, it was not an easy task.

“Does this mean you’re gonna be twelve percent brasher, now?” she asked, calling back to that conversation they had in the wardrobe, in an attempt to keep the mood light.

His lips turned up into a small smile of his own, his eyes twinkling in something close to amusement. “Have you been keeping track of all my changes?”

Although his tone was as light as hers had been, there was a hint of uncertainty in it.

She shook her head, offering him another soft smile. “Not keeping track, no. Just...curious.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a rather violent jolt that shook the entire room.

They exchanged a different kind of look, having both understood that they’d just jumped through or out of the Time Vortex.

…

The Doctor was not particularly surprised to see both Rose and his metacrisis self emerging from the main corridor, only a step apart from the other. Bothered, most definitely.

But not surprised.

_If you keep on snapping at people before crawling under the grating instead of mingling, you’re bound to be left out_, Donna had been telling him not two minutes ago, and really, she wasn’t wrong.

Some of the other things she’d just said to him, he would rather not think about for now.

It was easier and safer to focus on the fact that, according to the latest readings, his companion had successfully sent the TARDIS out of the Time Vortex and back to Earth.

Back in time, too.

The look on the other Doctor’s face as he took in the scene and understood _who_ had piloted their ship was almost comical.

“You know, you’re _both_ gonna get the worst kind of wrinkles if you keep up with that amount of scowling,” Donna pointed out, now leaning casually against the console. “I’m aware I’m only speaking for myself, here, but it’s not one of your most attractive traits.”

“You can pilot the TARDIS,” his counterpart stated more than he asked, having already joined them in the centre of the room to check on the readings himself.

Donna shrugged a shoulder. “Nah, not really. Not consciously, anyway. I think I just have a knack for pressing the right buttons.”

“Chicago?” her metacrisis twin asked, once again frowning at her. “Why Chicago?”

“Beats me,” Donna said with another shrug, Rose now standing with them at the console. “Like I said, I just messed around with the controls.”

“We’re not just in Chicago,” the Doctor said. “You landed us around 9pm, on October the 8th, 1871.”

His counterpart did a double take at that, briefly meeting his gaze, his mind having obviously jumped to the conclusion he himself had reached the moment he’d seen the date and location.

“Oh,” he said, sounding as intrigued as him.

“Oh?” Rose repeated. “Why ‘oh’?”

“The Great Chicago Fire,” both Doctors answered, immediately followed by some double-glowering, while Rose’s own brow furrowed even more.

“Now that _does_ sound familiar,” Donna noted.

“Your subconscious obviously thought so,” his counterpart said. “Maybe your mind recognised something in ours. I’ve always been curious about what happened that night. I just never got around to taking that trip.”

For his part, the Doctor’s focus was on Rose, who still looked confused and a bit out of the loop, yet she didn’t seem to dare ask again.

“The Great Chicago Fire is one of the most famous fires in human history,” he explained, his hearts squeezing a little when she locked eyes with him. “It went on for almost thirty hours and destroyed thousands of buildings, killing about three hundreds souls, and leaving a hundred-thousand people homeless.”

Rose took this information in, her expression already changing from confusion to something more…driven. “Are we early enough to stop it?” she asked.

The Doctor frowned, quite aware of his counterpart doing the same thing across the console.

“Well,” the other man said with a hint of hesitation. “It looks like the fire hasn’t started, no, but that doesn’t mean we can...keep it from starting.”

“Let me guess,” Donna said, her voice already taking on a sardonic edge. “Fixed point in history, can’t be changed, yadee yadee yap?”

“I don’t find it particularly amusing,” the Doctor said, irritation already bubbling near the surface again. “I never take these events lightly. But they are, by definition, unchangeable and unavoidable.”

Rose’s cheeks had become pinker. “You’re telling me we’ve got the opportunity to save hundreds of people from dying horrible deaths, and thousands of them from being homeless, and we’re just gonna stand there?”

“The Great Chicago Fire, as terrible as it was, is what allows this city to become what it’s meant to become,” the Doctor told her calmly, doing his best to keep his voice levelled, anything but condescending as he tried appealing to her more rational side. “Keeping this fire from happening would disrupt the entirety of human history.”

“This argument is nonsensical, anyway,” his counterpart added. “No one actually knows what caused the fire.”

The Doctor looked at his metacrisis self in slight surprise; it _almost _sounded like he’d taken his side, for once.

“I don’t remember much, but I do remember something about a cow knocking over a lantern and setting the barn on fire,” Donna chimed in.

The other Doctor scowled again, letting out a noise that resembled a scoff. “That cow story is just one of the many myths humans like to make up to try and explain something inexplicable.” He brought his face closer to the screen, his brow creased as he pushed his sliding glasses back up his nose. “These readings are really weird, though. I don’t think humans or cows are to blame, here. Might be worth a peek outside.”

The Doctor had noticed these peculiar readings a while ago, too, currently trying to ignore the familiar itch that was urging him to go out there and find out what this was all about. Said itch was conflicting with his irrational need to go against anything the other man said.

A more mature reason for his reluctance to get involved was the look on Rose’s face; he’d seen that look many times before.

That itch was _really _itchy, though.

“If we go out there and investigate, you have to understand that you _cannot _stop that fire,” he told Rose, before looking at Donna. “That goes for you, too.”

The women exchanged a glance that made him a tad uneasy, well-aware that he was witnessing the early stages of _complicity_, the kind of complicity that could only lead to more trouble in the long run. He couldn’t help but look at his counterpart, meeting his eyes as they exchanged a look of their own.

It almost felt like a truce, silently agreeing not to let any of their stubborn human companions wander off alone, tonight.

“I’ll behave,” Donna was the first to speak. “Or, I’ll try, you know me. Good intentions, wobbly execution.”

The Doctor looked back at Rose, who shrugged, her face now unreadable.

It would have to do.

They were barely out of the TARDIS that everybody but the Doctor started shivering, which was not surprising in itself. It was, after all, a windy October night, only a mile off Lake Michigan – in other words, it wasn’t _warm_.

All three of them were squinting, too, unable to see as well as him in the darkness; although many parts of a fast-growing city such as Chicago were undoubtedly lit by gas lamps, they’d landed in what appeared to be a somewhat more rural district, only a short distance away from a farm. The moon overhead was a small crescent, limiting the amount of light shining down on them to the stars above.

“I say we go check on that cow,” Donna prompted, indicating the closest barn with a tilt of her chin.

“The cow didn’t start the fire,” his counterpart replied.

While Donna’s teeth had been chattering lightly, there was no mistaking the loud chatter coming from him; he was obviously struggling with having to deal with colder temperatures in a warmer body.

“Almost got yourself the start of a good pop song, there, Hand Boy!” Donna said. “Just humour me, alright? After all the weird stuff I’ve seen traveling with you, I really wouldn’t put it past that cow.”

Before any of them could say anything, Donna had taken off towards the barn.

“Cows don’t start fires…” _Hand Boy_ whined under his quivering breath as he went after her.

The Doctor turned to look at Rose, expecting to find her watching the other pair.

She was looking up at the stars instead.

He spent a long moment watching her – way too long, aware of every second slipping away. Her body was showing signs of cold, too, but she didn’t seem bothered by it, properly lost in her thoughts.

“Not a believer in pyromaniac bovines, then?” he eventually asked, hoping she hadn’t noticed just how long he’d been staring at her.

She gave a small shrug, not looking at him. “In my experience, trouble tends to come from the stars,” she replied, in the kind of tone that held _many _meanings.

He supposed he deserved that jab.

The corner of her mouth turned up a little, then, as she looked down to meet his eyes. “The good kind of trouble, too,” she added more softly.

She quickly turned her eyes back to the starry sky; there seemed to be a heaviness pressing down on her shoulders as she observed the cosmos.

“I just…got used to a very different view, where I come from,” she said quietly. “I know both universes are full of differences and all that, but…the stars had been going out for almost two years by the time I made it back here.” She shook her head a little. “’m guessing what we did on the Crucible wouldn’t’ve been enough to undo all the damage that was already done, was it?”

She looked beautiful, her features only lit by these stars she couldn’t take her eyes off. She was so…_Rose_, too, in that moment. Deploring the losses that couldn’t be prevented, instead of being satisfied with all these lives they had successfully saved.

Her distress wasn’t as obvious as it would have been a few years ago, though, her face back to being almost unreadable; she’d either learned to remain more detached to it all, or she’d become better at masking her pain.

“Time’s not static,” the Doctor said quietly. “Most things are in flux, full of changing variables. Which is why almost every event comes with an infinite amount of possible timelines. But there are things that _are _fixed. Unmovable. Once they’re broken…they can’t be mended. Some changes are inevitable.”

Rose met his eyes again, both aware that he wasn’t simply referring to the stars going out in the other universe.

Or to what was about to happen.

The Doctor sensed the minute shift in the atmosphere a mere instant before Rose’s focus was pulled from him, as she noticed the bright flicker of light overhead. They looked up at the sky, staring at the streak of fire that had pierced the night and was now dashing down.

Towards them.

“I guess that rules out the cow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get heated. Not in the way you're hoping, though.
> 
> (Or is it?)
> 
> As always, feedback is never mandatory, but it is the loveliest of things ♥


	11. One Night in October

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Doctors and two human companions in a burning city. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know how hard it is to concentrate on writing while in the middle of a pandemic? The answer is, very hard. This chapter fought me every step of the way, but I fought back and kicked its 11-pages-long arse.
> 
> I know how much we can all use some distraction these days, so here. Have some distraction.

**Chapter Eleven – One Night in October**

Donna found what had to be the notorious lantern easily enough, even with the lack of light in the barn.

“Got a match?” she asked without turning around.

“Giving you fire is never a good idea,” the Doctor replied from somewhere near the gate. “Giving you fire in this particular barn would be a _terrible_ idea.”

He’d tried sounding sarcastic, but his chattering teeth were somewhat ruining the effect. When she turned to look at him, squinting as her eyes still adjusted to the darkness, he’d stuffed both his hands under his armpits, shuffling from foot to foot.

“It’s not _that_ cold, you ninny,” she told him with a roll of her eyes, and he looked slightly offended by this new slur. “Got a torch in those expendable pockets of yours, then?”

There was a pause in the teeth chattering as he thought about it, before he shoved his hands in the pockets of his blue jacket. While he rummaged in there, she peered around the barn, which was neither big nor impressive. One horse, a few pigs and the cow, of course, all of them making various amount of noises, not particularly enjoying having their evening disrupted by unwanted visitors.

“It’s 9pm,” the Doctor said, having followed her train of thoughts. “No one milks their cow in the middle of the night, and that one sure doesn’t look like it’s about to self-combust.”

He’d found a torch, now shining the light straight at the cow, who’d started chewing on some hay, observing them with mild interest.

“Party pooper,” Donna said.

“Oi,” he complained, back to sounding offended.

She hadn’t decided if she wanted to make amend or to tease him some more when the door slid open again, rather violently, the other Doctor and Rose barging in. The following seconds were both confused and confusing as the Doctor in brown shouted at them to _get down_, Rose grabbing the Doctor in blue by the arm, and pulling him down with her.

Donna did not have time to get down – and she noted that no one rushed to her side to protect her; not that it mattered, really. Whatever they thought was going to happen, it happened…mildly. There was a muffled _whoosh_ outside, and the ground tremored a little, followed by a wave of heat that washed through the open gate.

It was so unimpressive that even the animals, usually so sensitive to disruptions, didn’t complain much.

“That wasn’t nearly as dramatic as I thought it would be,” the Time Lord Doctor stated, already back on his feet and walking to the gate to take a peek outside. “It looked more lethal when it was falling from the sky.”

They all followed, the four of them soon huddled at the entrance of the barn, staring at the place near the back fence where the ground was…smoking.

“Some kind of meteor?” Donna asked.

The Doctor she was leaning against – the spectacles wearing one – shook his head. “This isn’t natural.”

Rose was the first to move, extracting herself from where she’d appeared to be rather squished between both men, taking a couple of steps closer to the smoking hole.

“Rose,” the Doctor furthest to Donna warned her, his voice low and foreboding.

She actually stopped. “There’s…something in there,” she noted, sounding more curious than worried.

Only moments after the Doctor in brown got his sonic out and started scanning the hole, Donna saw it, too. Something _was_ slowly coming out of the fuming crater, some kind of…wriggling thing, like a thin tongue made of what looked like fire, only…darker.

Soon, quite a few centimetres of it were out of the hole, wiggling towards the back fence, the grass shrivelling and dying beneath it.

“Out of the barn. Now,” the Time Lord Doctor ordered them, in a tone so grave that Donna actually shuddered in unease.

She had spent enough time as his companion to know _not _to argue when he got this stern, walking away from the barn and the hole, more tongues of fire crawling out of it.

The first one had reached the base of the wooden fence, and Donna gasped when the structure burst into flames.

“What the hell are these things?” she asked, as shocked as she was fascinated by how quickly it’d caused that wood to combust.

“Krimnins,” one of the Doctors answered. “It literally means _moving fire_. They look sentient, but they’re not. They’re waste products, the kind only generated by a very specific type of alien ship. The fact that they’ve been tossed out close enough to Earth for them to crash here is a highly punishable offence. We _need _to get back to the TARDIS.”

Donna simply couldn’t tear her eyes off the burning fence, the flames spreading so much faster than it would with a regular fire, not helped one bit by the four…no, _five_ alien ‘waste products’ mixing with the flames, noticeable by their crimson colour.

She felt pressure on her arm, one of them having grabbed her to make her move. She opposed some resistance, shaking off his grip as she turned to glare at the spectacles wearing Doctor.

“These things are gonna burn the whole city down, you cannot possibly expect us to just take off!” As the Doctor opened his mouth to reply, she carried on, even louder: “Don’t you dare ‘_Fixed point in time_’ me, Spacemen,” she warned them both. “Even you can’t be that callous!”

“I’m not!” the Doctor in brown retaliated, his irritation already matching hers. “If you listened and did what I asked instead of shouting, we’d already be back inside, building the devices we need to contain them! Now if you could just – ”

“Where’s Rose?” his counterpart interrupted him, somewhat in a frenzy; the fourth member of their party was, indeed, nowhere to be seen.

His question answered itself a mere second later, as the horse that had been inside the barn came out of it at a near gallop, screeching in fear and confusion, rushing away from the fast approaching flames, which were soon to reach the west side of the building. The horse was swiftly followed by one of the pigs, who _oinked oinked_ disapprovingly as it trotted out of the barn.

“What the hell are you doing?” the Time Lord Doctor demanded as they hurried back inside.

“What does it look like ‘m doing?” a breathless Rose answered with her own question, as she pushed heavily – and unsuccessfully – against the infamous cow’s rump.

“We’ve got to get back to the TARDIS. Everything we need to stop these things is on there.”

“You go do that, then. I’m kinda busy, here.”

“You can’t go around saving every farm animal in this town!”

“Yeah, well, you sure can’t stop me from saving the ones within my reach,” Rose countered once more, still pushing. “Fire’s moving fast, I reckon this barn will be up in flames in the next two minutes, and with these things wriggling around, shouldn’t be more than, what, twenty minutes before the whole district’s burning too, yeah? So you can either help me get them outta here, or you can leave me here to fry with that stupid cow.”

Donna did not wait for their latest argument to end, already shooing the rest of the pigs towards the exit as they bickered. The Doctor in blue didn’t wait either, now helping Rose in her efforts to get the cow moving.

Muttering audibly, the other Doctor joined in, and with their combined effort, the cow finally began to move. They were just coming out of the barn when the door to the main house burst open.

“What the – ” the farmer started, but he stopped dead in his tracks, having obviously noticed the roaring fire coming dangerously close to both his house and the barn.

The air, which had been chilly and windy only minutes ago, had warmed up dramatically, while the wind seemed to be picking up speed, increasing the spread of the fire. Most of the wooden fencing around the property had gone up in flames; it wouldn’t be long before they were surrounded from all ends.

“Get everyone out!” Rose shouted at the man. “Don’t even bother grabbing anything, just get yourself and your family out, then get to the lake!”

She spoke with a kind of authority that vaguely reminded Donna of the time she’d spent with her in that pocket universe; she had the authority of someone used to giving out orders, from her voice to her body language. Soon, Rose was turning that furious glare of hers on both Doctors.

“Why you’re still standing there for?” she asked, incensed. “I thought you said you needed to go back to the TARDIS!”

“I’d rather you came with us,” the spectacles-wearing Doctor told her.

“And I’d rather not,” she replied at once. “You’re going in, the two of you, and you’re gonna use those big brains of yours to figure out how to stop these things as if hundreds of lives depended on it. Me and Donna, we’ll stay here and help.”

“These things are _dangerous_,” the Doctor in brown argued back with even more vehemence. “They might not be sentient, they’re still deadly. If any one of them gets to you they’ll – ”

“Stay away from the deadly red flames, got it,” Rose interrupted him. “Look, all you said was ‘_don’t keep the fire from starting’_, and I didn’t. You never said I couldn’t help. So I’m not gonna hide in the TARDIS when I can be out here, _helping_. Right now you’re just wasting time, both of you!”

She was barely done talking that the Doctor in blue was turning on his heels, sprinting back towards the TARDIS. The other Doctor seemed a lot more reluctant, staring down at Rose with a mix of fury and concern.

“You’ve got to trust me,” Rose told him, a lot more quietly, although her tone remained as pressing and assertive as it had been a moment ago.

The Doctor didn’t nod, but he did turn away, going after his counterpart at a quick run.

“Let’s go,” Rose instructed her a second later, before taking off.

Donna followed.

…

Suffice to say, the four and a half minutes it took them to build two identical sets of devices once back on the TARDIS were not spent in silence, both Doctors exchanging words that were neither calm nor sensible. In other words, they argued, rather loudly at that, all the while trying to outrun the other at how quickly they could get _their _device done and working.

The main topic of their argument, obviously, was Rose.

There were more than one reasons why the Doctor had done his best not to find himself alone with his metacrisis self since the other man had sprouted out of his severed hand. It was _unnatural_ for them to be in the same room, even if it didn’t feel nearly as disquieting as being around an immortal Jack always felt. Being face to face with yourself was disturbing enough in itself.

Being face to face with a version of yourself that repeatedly refused to take your side was particularly infuriating. He simply could not understand why his more human self refused to show him any kind of support when it came to Rose’s reckless ways.

This, of course, led to him once again insinuating that this hybrid version of himself was little more than a waste of space.

“Are you even aware that you’re chasing her away?” this scruffy-looking Doctor eventually snapped. “At the rate you’re going, repeatedly treating her like a misbehaving child every time she does anything, it won’t be long before she’s had enough of your temper and leaves for good, no matter what you say or do to try and keep her here.”

This did not sit well with the Doctor – not simply because the thought of losing Rose again made him feel nauseous. His counterpart hadn’t said much, but he’d said enough; after all, they still shared very similar brains, despite their paths diverging further and further apart with each passing hour.

“You two’ve been talking about me, then,” the Doctor said, rather coldly. “Brilliant.”

“Blimey I’m starting to understand why Donna constantly wants to slap me,” he stated, looking as irritated as he sounded. “I’m not five, and neither is she. Yes, Rose talked to me about you. She talked to me because she’s confused and hurt about the fact that you’re _shouting at her_ every time you’re near her. Not that you’ll care, but I’ve actually tried defending you.”

The Doctor scowled. “I don’t need your help.”

“Obviously. But I happen to _like_ having Rose back here with us, and I’m not ready to lose her again because you can’t stop acting like a fool.”

They’d both stopped their assembling, standing equally stiff and stern on each side of the workshop table, glaring at one another. The Doctor was the first to look away, remaining quiet, because he knew _he_ was right. Rose had told him so herself, that she would leave. He just…couldn’t quite wrap his brain around all of this yet, even if he realised he was only digging himself into a hole that was getting deeper and deeper.

“Look,” his counterpart tried again, and the Doctor looked up, meeting his own eyes. “I get it. What you’re doing. And I’ve told her that much, so I think she gets it, too. Or she’s trying, at least, because she wants to be here. But she won’t let you treat her like this indefinitely. You know she won’t. You need to change your attitude, or we’re both going to lose her.”

He didn’t wait for a sign of understanding – of course he understood, already back to assembling the last few parts of his device; the Doctor focused back on his task, too, forced into humbled silence.

When they finally rushed back outside, they seemed to step out on a different world. What had been a peaceful October night twenty minutes ago had turned into a blaze. Not only were both the barn and the main farm on fire, at least a dozen houses had suffered the same fate, people fleeing their homes in hoards, while others had banded together trying to hose down the various fires.

Their human companions, of course, were nowhere to be seen.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before they heard shouting in the distance…a very familiar kind of shouting. The Doctor exchanged a glance with his counterpart, before they started running towards the noise.

“Why the bloody hell would you try carrying these out, you dunce?” Donna was yelling at a short, portly man whose arms were full of pots and pans.

“They’re family heirlooms!” the man replied.

“Your arse’s gonna become a family heirloom in about thirty seconds if you don’t get a move on. _Drop it all_.”

The man obeyed, looking as frightened by Donna as he was by the fire, quickly joining the moving crowd.

“Donna, where’s Rose?” his metacrisis self asked – his favourite question tonight.

Donna made a vague hand movement towards the mass of scattering humans, one that clearly meant ‘somewhere in there’. “Got separated a couple minutes ago. Some idiots started fighting over a horse and she got involved, told me to keep directing people to the lake.”

The Doctor turned to his counterpart, who looked as grim as he felt. “You two get started on tracking the Krimnins. I’ll find her.”

The other man clenched his jaws, but he didn't say anything, nodding in assent, although he gave him the kind of look that seemed to say ‘_don’t muck this up’_.

All the Doctor could do was try.

For him to even get a chance at redeeming himself, he had to find Rose, first, something he could do but not his other self: of the two of them, he was the only one who’d established a telepathic bond with her in the last twenty-four hours.

That bond was still in its infantile stage, nothing like the strong connection two people could forge over time, one that not only would give him an immediate awareness of her physical location, but of her state of mind as well. There was also the fact that Rose, for all of her many strengths and qualities, was not naturally telepathic.

None of that mattered. He was definitely stubborn enough to make do with what he had to work with; his mental connection with Rose may be fragile and new, it was above all else genuine and deep.

And so he focused, even as he started running towards the area Donna had indicated, directing all of his telepathic energy towards detecting_ hers_.

It didn’t take long.

…

Rose was ushering yet another family towards the closest intersection when she felt…_it_.

It was like an itch at the back of her throat. Except the itch wasn’t in her throat at all, but somewhere deep in her mind. The sensation wasn’t exactly painful or uncomfortable, but it was confusing enough to make her stop in her tracks.

Not knowing what else to do, she focused inward, and tried scratching that itch.

The effect was instantaneous, the odd itchiness replaced by a warm, fleeting sense of recognition she immediately associated with the Doctor. She could have sworn she heard his voice in her head, then, although there were no words at all.

_Don’t move_.

She obeyed, this time, so lost in that strange, inner daze that a couple of people actually bumped into her as they ran passed her.

She spotted him, eventually, running in her direction, and her insides twisted while her heart picked up speed; he wasn’t going nearly as fast as he had been, back in that deserted street a few days ago, and there was no trace of a smile on his face as he navigated through the crowd, but the way his eyes were locked onto her made her feel like she was the only person here.

…until someone else slammed into her, violently enough to cause her to stumble backward, successfully snapping her right back into their dire situation.

Soon, he was skidding to a stop in front of her. “You okay?” he asked her at once, sounding oddly winded, and genuinely worried, having obviously witnessed the way she’d almost been knocked on her arse.

She ignored his question all together. “Was it…you I felt? I mean, did you…just do something to my mind?”

He tilted his head. “Located you telepathically, yeah,” he said as if that was absolutely normal. “Sorry, I realise it might not have felt that pleasant, given the lack of warning.”

She was opening her mouth to reply when there was an explosion of sounds immediately followed by more screams; another building had just gone up in flames.

“Doesn’t matter now, do you have the device?” she asked him.

He showed her what he’d built; as it was often the case with most items he concocted in his TARDIS workshop, what he held in his hands looked like something he’d found in a junkyard; Rose knew it would perform whatever job he’d designed it to performed, though. As soon as he flipped one of the switches on, a slow, regular beeping filled the air.

She’d become better at understanding complicated scientific babbles these last few years, as she’d been made to work with quite a few brainies during her missions – although none of them had ever come close to matching the Doctor, in neither his brilliance nor his ability to _really_ ramble.

Still, she only took in maybe a third of his longwinded description of the device and its functions as she followed him, just enough to understand that it was using properties specific to the Krimnins to track them down. He also explained how the Krimnins were mainly interested in the type of cellulose that was found in wood.

And this city, which had expended quickly in the last few years like so many other cities in the Midwest during this time period, had built most of its infrastructures with one of the cheapest and most readily available materials: wood.

_Everything_ was made of timber, from buildings to sidewalks.

Even the streets were covered with sawdust, meant to keep the other kind of dust down from all the horse-drawn buggies, the Doctor explained after Rose witnessed how fire spread from one side of a street to the other in a handful of seconds.

When they finally spotted one of the Krimnins, half-camouflaged amongst the flames of a burning corner shop, the way the Doctor neutralised it was almost anti-climactic: he pointed his device towards it, which was now beeping so fast it sounded like a continuous buzz, before pressing a button – which would ‘destabilise its molecular structure and reduce it down to its individual atoms’, he also explained.

The device must have worked; one moment, Rose was staring at a streak of crimson within a wall of fire, and the next, it appeared to have vanished altogether.

“Is that it?” she asked, unable to hide how disheartened she felt. He’d been honest about what the device would do, but she’d still expected…more, like the intensity of the flames dialling down or something.

The Doctor could easily have dismissed her disappointment, especially considering his rather patronising attitude towards her, lately. He didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead, and he sounded it, too. “These…things, they’re merely a catalyst. We know that they’re responsible for starting the fire, and that the longer we let them roam, the further the blaze will spread, but…the damage is done. That fire will keep on spreading, even after we’ve neutralised all of the Krimnins.”

Rose stared at the blazing horizon, her throat aching with more than all the toxic smoke she’d been inhaling in the last half-an-hour.

“When will it stopped?” she asked, subdued.

“In about twenty hours,” he answered. “It’ll start raining, eventually. Their first rainfall in nearly three months.”

This was not going to become one of these adventures she would look back on fondly.

They’d been in dire situations before, but she was filled with a sense of helplessness tonight as they moved through the blazing streets, tracking down the rest of the Krimnins. The night had turned into utter chaos, panicked people rushing out of their homes, too many of them trying to hold on to a ridiculous amount of belongings, favouring items over _children_ at times, loose horses scuttering amongst the crowd, the air thick with smoke and cinders alike.

Getting from one Krimnin to the next was easier said than done, especially with Rose regularly stepping in to help people out of their house or to give them instructions on how to stay ahead of the fire. She’d expected the Doctor to start yelling at her a while ago for wasting more of their time, but to her surprise, he never did, often aiding her instead, although she did notice how tightly he clenched his jaws whenever he did.

Time passed; Rose would not have been able to tell how much of it. Her lungs hurt every time she breathed in, her eyes continuously leaking from the sting. Quite a few times, she had to get people moving again, as they stared mesmerised at their burning city. She understood their morbid fascination; there was something terribly beautiful in the sights before them, whole neighbourhoods turned into seas of fire.

Everything from the streets to the top of buildings were ablaze in swaying sheets of flames, waves of bright embers getting caught in the wind and scattering away, setting alight every structure they came in contact with.

“There’s only one left,” he eventually spoke, sounding almost as weary as she felt. “Donna and…the other me must have gotten the rest of them.”

“Where is it?” she asked, ready to be done with this, now, although she doubted she would be able to step back onto the TARDIS before the rain he predicted started falling.

He pointed east. “Let’s use an adjacent street, we’ll move faster,” he told her as they struggled to advance through the narrow, crowded street.

The next street they emerged onto was nearly empty in comparison, as it was leading _away_ from the lake were most people had been agglomerating all night, nearly every building on one side of it already ablaze.

And there, right in the middle of the road, tottering amongst sawdust, was a young boy.

The first thought that burst into Rose’s mind as her heart lurched in her throat was, _Tony_.

She _knew _this boy was not her brother, who was safe at home with his parents (their parents) in the other universe. She knew it all, yet the sight of this wandering child was enough to put her baby brother front and centre in her mind, when she’d successfully managed not to think about him at all since she’d made her choice, back on Bad Wolf Bay.

“Rose.” There was another warning in the Doctor’s voice.

When she turned her head to look at him, his brow was furrowed, his face set. He knew _exactly_ what was going through her head, and he did not approve.

He still remained quiet.

Rose turned around, swiftly making her way to the small child, who was clearly lost; none of the few adults she’d seen running through the street had paid him any mind.

“What’s your name, honey?” she asked him softly as she crouched down to be at his level.

“Frankie,” he replied in a small voice.

“Nice to meet you Frankie,” she told him with a warm smile. “I’m Rose, and that man standing over there is the Doctor. Did you get separated from your Mum and Dad?”

He nodded, big, fat tears rolling down his dirty cheeks.

“How old are you? About…four?”

“And a half,” Frankie confirmed – always an important distinction in young children.

“’ve got a brother who’s about your age,” she said. “He’s not four yet, and he gets a bit scared, sometimes. When that happens, he likes to hold my hand. D’you want to hold my hand while we help you find your parents?”

“Rose,” the Doctor pressed again from his side of the street; his device was beeping obnoxiously fast again – not a good sign.

She ignored him, extending a hand towards the boy. He took it without much hesitation, _clenching _at her fingers, all too ready to trust any grownup who would get him to safety. She gave him another reassuring smile, before standing back up, quickly leading him to where the Doctor stood, off the sawdust.

When she turned to face the Doctor, he was glowering at the child.

“He’s defenceless,” she said, familiar irritation already clutching at her insides.

“So are the thousands of people we can hear running and screaming all over town,” he pointed out, equally annoyed.

Just like that, her blood started to boil in her veins again, wondering for the umpteenth time lately _what_ had happened to make him this reluctant to _help_, the way he used to when they travelled together.

Before she could ask him that very question, the windows from the nearest building exploded, an avalanche of flames immediately pouring out.

One of them was crimson.

In her shock, her grip slackened for a fraction of a second…enough for her to feel the tiny hand she’d been holding slip out of hers.

“Wait!” she shouted after the frightened child now running away from her – back towards the centre of the street and its sawdust covered ground.

It all happened fast.

Rose did not think twice, leaping forwards and grabbing at the child as a red streak of fire burst in her peripheral vision, pulling then pushing him backwards with an amount of force that was bound to cause some bruising, but it effectively got him out of harm’s way.

As pain erupted all over one side of her body, she realised she hadn’t been as lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that, another cliffhanger that involves Rose getting herself in a dangerous situation while the Doctor (inwardly) screams “FFS!”. I’m not even a little bit sorry.
> 
> This chapter seriously hated me (AND I HATED IT BACK), but the second half of this crispy adventure should (hopefully) come faster; I’m quite excited about writing it, because of reasons *coughs*
> 
> As always, any feedback would be lovely and more helpful than you know right now. Stay safe, my darlings.


	12. Set Fire to the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean, Rose got in trouble again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely my new favourite chapter to date. It’s like my muse went ‘as a reward for you powering through writing adventury things, you can now go back to crushing people with feels’.
> 
> This is quite long. You may want to bring a snack.
> 
> In terms of warnings, there are some ~vague descriptions of burn injuries. I tried keeping it mild, so it’s nothing too off-putting, hopefully.

**Chapter Twelve – Set Fire to the Rain**

The Doctor reacted instinctively when Rose leapt forwards to grab the child and push him back, pointing his device towards the flash of red, before pressing the button faster than he had at any point tonight.

He wasn’t fast enough.

The Krimnin’s entire atomic structure crumbled and the whole entity faded into the night, but not before Rose let out a wrenching cry of pain, forced to watch as she collapsed upon the ground.

He rushed to her within seconds, nothing short of leaping over the child as he did so, and his rather harsh landing caused sawdust to scatter all around them. Both relief and guilt twisted at his insides when she made another sound of pain, caused by the hand he’d put on her. He hated that she was hurting, but the simple fact that she was making any kind of noise meant that she was _alive_.

As someone who could perceive a multitude of timelines at any given time, it would be a tad ironic to say he experienced déjà-vus. There definitely was something familiar about the unfolding scene, though, and it wasn’t just because he’d already found himself kneeling at her sides, twenty-four hours ago. This also felt like a complete reversal of what had happened in London in that deserted street, when they’d finally met up again.

He sure hoped the similarities stopped there, well aware that his wounds had caused him to _die_ that night; last time he’d checked, Rose did not possess the ability to regenerate dying tissues.

“Don’t move,” he told her as she tried shifting her position, his voice gruff and stern.

He couldn’t fully assess the extent of her injuries yet, but the smell of burnt flesh alone was worrisome; the side of her face where the Krimnin had made contact looked…_unpleasant_, her skin and flesh burnt all the way from her jawline to midway through her neck. The wound looked thin but _deep_, and quite alarming in nature.

Similar streaks of burnt flesh and clothes were visible down her shoulder, hip, and part of her leg.

“Where’s the boy…?” were her first words, whimpered in a constricted breath.

Both his hearts were pounding in his chest, much too worked up to do something as trivial as _focusing_ on regulating their rhythm, his breathing subsequently faster, too.

He was _livid_.

His anger wasn’t really anger at all, though, as dread and concern continued to twist at his insides. She was alive, conscious and lucid enough to be worrying about everyone but herself. Unfortunately, his long existence had taught him many things, including that one harsh truth stating that appearances could be deceiving.

“Doctor…” she insisted, followed by another groan of pain.

Resisting the urge to shout that he did not _care_ about the bloody child, the Doctor forced himself to look around, spotting the boy only a short distance away. She’d pushed him well away from the Krimnin’s path; he looked understandably upset by his rough meeting with the ground, now crying earnestly, but overall, he seemed unharmed.

“He’s right there,” he told her in a voice that still didn’t sound like his own. “He’s fine.”

“Don’t leave him behind, yeah?” she whispered faintly. “He’s not…”

Whatever she’d tried saying died on her lips as she lost consciousness.

This alone was another alarming sign that she was in a lot more pain than she’d let it show, if her body was now forcing her mind to shut down as a coping mechanism.

His anger (panic) peaked, but it swiftly deflated. Being efficient in a crisis was kind of his trademark, after all, and it wasn’t like he’d never been in worse situations – including with Rose. The main problem was that he never reacted well to _Rose_ being hurt.

It tended to make him slightly irrational.

He needed to take her back to his TARDIS, which wasn’t exactly close by, not to mention the fact that they would have to go back towards the fire instead of away from it. He could easily carry her on his own, too, especially now that she was unconscious and he wouldn’t worry as much about accidentally hurting her, but the process would be long and strenuous.

As it dawned on him that what he needed was _help_, her words prickled at his conscience.

_Don’t leave him behind, yeah?_

What he really needed was to get them all out of that street; all the Krimnins might have been dealt with, more than half the buildings surrounding them were already ablaze.

“Frankie?” he called out towards the boy, who sniffled miserably from his spot on the ground. “I know you got a bit shaken up, but you look like a bright lad. You realise Rose was only trying to protect you, don’t you?” When the boy nodded, the Doctor continued: “She got hurt, you see. Think you can help me get her out of here?”

Thankfully, the child did not hesitate for long, finally getting back on his feet and walking towards him. “Good boy,” he told him, a lot more brightly than he felt. “I can carry her, but I’m gonna need you to act as a look out for me, let me know if you spot anything suspicious or dangerous, all right?” Frankie nodded again. “Brilliant,” the Doctor encouraged him again. “It’ll be a lot safer if we stick together. Why don’t you come around and hook your arms around my neck? That way I can carry you, too.”

“Like a piggy back ride?” he asked hesitantly, if not a tad hopefully.

“Yep!” the Doctor confirmed, already moving with care to secure his hold on Rose’s limp body, getting ready to lift her off the ground. “Up you go, then!”

The boy didn’t have to be told twice, happy to wrap his arms around the Doctor’s neck, clinging to him tightly. He got up on his feet with some difficulty, rather grateful for his superior physiology and bypass system.

“Just shout ‘_zippadeedoodah!’ _if you see anything weird, all right?” he instructed the young boy, who snorted near his ear.

As the Doctor moved them off the street as quickly as possible, he started focusing again, just as he had earlier when he’d located Rose.

This was…somewhat different.

He’d been aware from the start that he would be able to initiate some kind of telepathic link with his metacrisis self, if he wanted to. Until now, he’d really not wanted to.

Still didn’t, to be honest, but Rose’s safety was more important than his selfish woes.

He reached out, his call just potent enough to be noticed by his counterpart, whose ability had become much weaker than his. He could sense that they weren’t physically far, which was a relief.

The instant he felt him acknowledging the bond, the Doctor sent him one clear message, more an image mixed with emotions than words, knowing exactly what would get him running.

_Rose is injured. We need help_.

He continued walking, trying to keep well away from the wind and the embers still igniting the sky. Less than three minutes passed before he heard a wonderfully familiar voice.

“Oi!”

He turned, spotting Donna and his counterpart making their way towards him; he imagined he looked quite bizarre, with a wounded, unconscious Rose in his arms, and a small human child still attached to his neck.

“Zippadeedoodah!” that same boy was now shouting right into his ear.

“We’re good,” he told him with a grimace. “They’re friends.” He meant it, too.

For the most part.

…

Rose came to with a cry of pain, feeling like thousands of knives were piercing at her flesh, all over one side of her body.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” a voice said.

_His _voice.

She was trying to reconnect with her surroundings, and was mostly failing at it. She sluggishly managed to deduce that she was back inside the TARDIS, in the infirmary. She figured she must have hit her head at some point, too, because it looked like the Doctor was _everywhere_ at once, rolling up the sleeve of her uninjured arm, but also getting a syringe ready on the other side of the room.

This was the oddest case of double vision she’d ever experienced.

One of them was poking the needle into her vein when she realised she wasn’t seeing double at all; there literally were two of them, something she was very well aware of.

She felt like a proper idiot, but to be fair, she wasn’t at her best.

It didn’t help that they’d both discarded their jackets, and none of them was wearing glasses anymore, their faces just as sooty from all these ashes that had fallen upon them, tonight.

For the first time since the Doctor had split into two entities, they looked absolutely indiscernible to her.

As soon as the content of the syringe was poured into her blood, she felt infinitely better. Still feverish, and the drugs didn’t do much to help her clear her head, quite the opposite, but the excruciating pain subsided, disappearing almost completely.

“We need to treat your wounds,” one of them was speaking again. “We’re gonna have to take off most of your clothes.”

“s fine…” she mumbled, because _really_, when would she ever complain about the Doctor telling her he needed to take off her clothes?

She let them handle her, unable to do anything beyond feebly following their instructions. Their voices were soft, yet firm, just like their hands. She became particularly focused on one set of fingers on her skin as he helped her sit up. While one of them used scissors to cut through the fabric of her clothes, she let most of her uninjured side rest upon the other’s chest, and he smelled of fire and time – not that time had a _smell_, but she’d long ago come to associate the smell of him with time and stars.

Soon, there were four hands working on her, and really, for two men who’d not been able to spend thirty seconds together without shouting at each other, they were oddly in sync when it came to stripping her down to her undies.

Despite how unsubstantial everything felt, she was acutely aware of the various sensations coursing through her battered body, including the waves of shivers she couldn’t stop from running underneath her skin wherever they touched her.

Their gestures were purely methodical, but she couldn’t help her reaction to this kind of attention; there were a total of _twenty_ fingers making some kind of contact with her body, and all of them were the Doctor’s.

Any semblance of good feeling that had been bubbling in her veins disappeared the instant they began focusing on her burns; she supposed whatever painkiller they’d given her could only do so much when it came to exposed nerves, letting out another cry of pain as her body shook in agony, and the edges of her vision darkened again.

“She’s in too much pain,” one of them said from far, far away. “We need to put her under.”

The other Doctor said something in response, but she couldn’t make out the words.

His hand was on her feverish cheek, then – one of the four anyway – and she forced her eyelids open, his face close enough for her to stare straight into that shade of brown she loved so much.

She saw his lips move, felt the caress of his thumb upon her skin, but the words…they just escaped her.

The sound of her name falling from his lips was the last thing she understood, before everything went dark.

…

The next time Rose regained consciousness, she felt…better.

For one thing, she didn’t feel drugged up out of her mind anymore. She was sore, but the searing pain appeared to be gone._ Completely_ gone. Still, she wasn’t that eager to find out how badly she’d been hurt; from what she could remember, it wouldn’t be pretty.

When she opened her eyes, it took her a few moments to confirm what she’d already deduced; she was in the infirmary, lying in bed on her uninjured side. And the light in the room might be dim, the Doctor fast asleep on a chair right next to her was hard to miss.

She was unable to tell _who_ he was at first, as she couldn’t see any of the usual visual cues. No suit jacket, and still no spectacles. Her confusion didn’t last long, as her brain fully rebooted. She’d spent months traveling with a fully Time Lord Doctor; while she knew he slept on occasion, that wasn’t something she’d actually ever witnessed herself.

_This_ exhausted Doctor was part-human. Only an exhausted person would fall asleep in such an awkward position, his neck bent and stretched at what looked like an uncomfortable angle, his chin and part of his cheek resting on his chest.

She didn’t immediately realise his sleep wasn’t as peaceful as she’d first believed it to be, too lost in her thoughts, but she soon noticed some glaring signs. His muscles were tensed and twitching, his whole body shivering, while the air rushed in and out of his lungs in small, jerky breaths; what she could see of his face seemed constricted in discomfort.

Rose reached out a hand, taking a hold of his fingers. She was so focused on him, she didn’t notice her injured arm didn’t hurt when she stretched it.

“Doctor,” she called out, but her voice was too quiet. She insisted, more loudly: “_Doctor_.”

He woke up with a jolt, sucking air through his nose as he straightened up, his body unfurling even as every single one of his muscles seemed to lock into place. He looked so lost and panicked for a moment, it made her heart ache in her chest.

She squeezed his fingers, hoping that it would help him refocus. It seemed to work, his blurry eyes locking with hers, and his next exhale sounded almost…relieved. She watched as he tried his best to regain his composure, to hide it all from her. She wished he wouldn’t do that; that he would trust her enough to let himself be more vulnerable with her.

“Bad dream?” she asked in a soft voice.

He quickly waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, and her heart ached again. “I’m awake, now,” he replied, already deflecting as she suspected he would, albeit in a voice that was a tad too thick, and he cleared his throat before he spoke again. “More importantly, how are _you_ feeling?”

She released his hand, bringing it back under the sheet as she tried not to be too disappointed about the walls _this_ Doctor was putting around himself. “’m alright, I think.”

“Are you in pain?”

She shrugged. “I’m fine,” she repeated, her turn to deflect. “How long was I out?”

He shook his head with a small pout. “Not sure, now. I don’t have a watch, and my time sense is – ” He stopped himself, clearing his throat again. “Anyway. It’d been about twelve hours when I…dozed off.”

“Twelve _hours_?” She was genuinely shocked, until she remembered some of her last memories before she lost consciousness, peering at him. “You drugged me, didn’t you? Forced me to sleep?”

His small pout had turned into a proper scowl. “Your wounds were substantial,” he defended himself. “It’s been proven that sleep is conducive to better healing. It also meant you wouldn’t be in so much pain.”

The edge in his voice was almost endearing; he’d obviously been shaken up by what had happened to her. She decided it was about time she checked the extent of her injuries herself. She’d been particularly aware of the bandage stuck to the lower half of her face, the one that seemed to extend down to part of her neck. She felt that same itchy, uncomfortable sensation on her shoulder, hip and thigh.

Rose pulled the sheets off without thinking, wanting to take a better look at her side. Although the room wasn’t cold, the cooler air caused her bare skin to erupt in gooseflesh the moment it reached it, quickly realising she wasn’t wearing anything besides her underwear.

“We…” the Doctor tried. “We had to remove your clothes to, uh…get to the burns.”

Rose looked away from the clean dressings she’d been examining to look at him instead. He was once again a bit too tensed on his chair, having tilted his head up and sideways, clearly to show her he was _not_ peeking.

She was pretty sure the TARDIS was eavesdropping, too, because the light was a lot brighter than when she first woke up, so that she could see his cheekbones turning pinker by the second.

“You took my clothes off, Doctor,” she reminded him, a hint of teasing in her voice. “The chivalry’s kinda cute, but ‘m pretty sure you’ve seen it all.”

His blush darkened, and Rose bit on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling, finally covering herself up again.

“_He_ helped,” he almost mumbled, before finally daring to take a look at her.

It was Rose’s turned to blush; she did vaguely recall both Doctors working together to undress her.

She forced herself not to focus on that, not now. Over half-a-day had passed since she’d last been conscious, and she had no idea what was going on.

“What happened?” she asked, her tone almost business like. “Are we still on Earth?”

He shook his head, turning to face her properly again, leaning forwards to be closer to her; his cheeks still had a small, pink tinge to them, but he maintained eye contact. “We’re orbiting Saturn,” he said, and she frowned in confusion. “We kept busy while you slept. Found the vessel responsible for carelessly releasing the Krimnins into space. Had a bit of a chat with the culprit to make sure it wouldn’t happen again.” He paused, his face closing off again. “Well. _He_ did, anyway. Apparently, two of us talking to the accused would have been ‘one too many’.”

He averted his eyes, and the dejected look on his face caused her to ache for him again. She’d seen the two men interacting often enough these last few days to have a good idea of how things had played out…with the other Doctor once again claiming that his metacrisis self was getting in his way more than anything else.

“What happened to the boy?” she eventually asked, deciding it was safer (and kinder) to change the subject.

The Doctor met her eyes again. “He’s still on board with us. Donna wanted us to bring him back to his parents right away but…_he_ was adamant on tracking that vessel, first, before we lost track of it. Last time I checked, Frankie was asleep. Taking him home is next on our to-do list.”

Rose had barely interacted with the boy herself – beside saving his life, but she couldn’t help the visceral reaction she felt towards him, unable not to think back to that moment when she’d first spotted him, alone in that street.

Something must have shown on her face, because the Doctor then asked: “Your Mum had a baby boy, didn’t she?”

Rose’s throat tightened as she looked back at him in surprise.

“Something she said, right before she left,” he continued, his tone hesitant. He seemed to realise this was a difficult topic for her. “Tony?”

Rose nodded a little, already looking away as she burrowed her uninjured cheek deeper into the pillow. “Yeah,” she breathed out. “He’s…” She swallowed hard. “He’ll be four next April.”

Not that she would be there to see it.

She closed her eyes when they started prickling, _refusing_ to get overemotional over this. She’d known what she was doing, every time she used that cannon, over and over. She’d accepted it, accepted the fact that she was giving up her family in exchange for this life.

It didn’t make her loss any less real.

She let that sudden wave of grief wash through her, her face more or less buried in her pillow, her body curling up underneath the sheet. She’d learned the hard way that it was pointless and even harmful to try and stop these emotions, as pointless as it would be to try stopping a tide from coming in.

If you let it run its course, even for a minute, it always receded.

The Doctor reached out for her hand, at some point, the way she’d reached out for his, earlier. She was grateful for his silence as she clung to his fingers and breathed through her pain, managing to keep herself from breaking down.

She relaxed again, eventually, loosening her grip on him; he didn’t pull his hand away.

“I should check on your wounds,” he said after some time, his voice subdued. “Can you sit?”

Rose nodded. She was familiar with her body, especially with her body in _pain_. She could already tell this wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d feared.

She sat up, keeping most of her front covered up with the sheet as she turned to let her legs hang off the bed, the Doctor coming to sit next to her.

She tried to keep her body from shivering when he put his hands on her…and failed.

“What happened to your glasses?” she asked almost randomly, in an attempt to fill the silence, not even looking at him.

“Got stomped on, back in town,” he replied in a tone that was lower than what she was used to. “I haven’t gotten around to fixing them yet.”

She felt like she was aware of every single one of his fingers as he slowly worked on unpeeling the dressing from her arm. “Aren’t you struggling with seeing things, though?” she carried on asking.

“I’m near-sighted,” he said. “I struggle seeing things that are far from me.”

She definitely wasn’t far from him.

The little ‘_Uhm…’_ he let out then was a welcome distraction.

“What?” she asked with some concern, trying to look at her shoulder; she couldn’t see much from that angle, but she saw enough to understand his reaction.

“Oh,” she said, equally surprised.

Whatever the burns had looked like a few hours ago, they seemed to have healed almost completely, now. Her skin looked raw and brand new, but above all it looked…undamaged. The only lasting trace from her close encounter with that alien fire thingy was a deep, sinuous scar where she’d been wounded.

“Can you feel that?” he asked, even as he followed the thin scar down with a finger. She was pretty sure the way she shivered from head to toe was answer enough.

“Uh, yeah,” she breathed out anyway.

While she was struggling to keep her body from reacting too much to his proximity and touch, he looked entirely focused on his medical examination, his brow creased in concentration and some confusion.

“This makes no sense,” he spoke at last after he was done examining what felt like every inch of that one scar. “All we gave you were painkillers and some strong antibiotics to fight off infections. Krimnins burns are notorious for how damaging they are, especially to nerves, yet this looks...healed.”

Rose half-shrugged, reluctant to focus on what this meant. “I’ve always healed fast,” she said instead, omitting to say that she’d only realised she was healing fast a few years ago.

She was the one avoiding his gaze, now, while she almost felt the weight of his stare on her.

“Can we take off that one?” she asked, pointing at the dressing on the side of her face. “It itches.”

He got to work, eventually, his fingers coming up to her face, his gestures even slower than before as he began unpeeling the gauze covering her jaw and part of her neck. While he focused on what he was doing, she used that opportunity to take a better look at him.

He must have washed up at some point, his face much cleaner than the rest of his clothes, but he clearly hadn’t changed, yet, his white shirt not so white anymore, tinged with dark streaks and spots wherever ashes and embers had come into contact with the fabric. He looked even more dishevelled than he did yesterday, with his couple days old stubble and that head of messy hair.

Suddenly, all she could think about was how it’d felt like, to bury her hand into that hair…to cling to it as he pressed his whole body against hers.

Rose only realised he was done taking off the dressing when she felt his thumb lightly trailing the oversensitive skin over her jaw, following the mark etched there all the way down her neck.

He did not ask her if she felt it, this time.

“How bad is it?” she asked instead – or breathed out, really.

She was way passed trying to conceal the way her body was responding to his touch, especially when his second hand came up to cup her other cheek, for no obvious reason, but she wasn’t about to ask him to stop.

The Doctor met her eyes, and she wondered if her gaze looked as heavy as his did.

“You got yourself some battle scars,” he told her thickly, his thumb back to tracing the one on her jaw…until it moved up to caress her lower lip instead. She became that much more aware of her mouth, hanging slightly open.

He didn’t have any scar for her to follow (none that she could see), yet she felt compelled to respond to his touch, bringing her hand up. Her nails grazed the rough surface of his cheek, before giving in and reaching around his head to sink her whole hand into the thick silk of his hair, _clutching_.

Their lips met, as did their noses, which ended up nearly squished together as they sought more closeness. They remained completely still at first, except for their breathing, which was slow and heavy, the Doctor sucking the air straight from her lungs.

He moved, then, slowly but with intent, both his hands disappearing into her hair and closing into tight fists. More delicious shivers travelled down her spine as he pulled her closer…tighter, mouths opening, tongues meeting and caressing, her insides throbbing at the smell of him, at the feel of him…at the _sound_ of him, too, the low groan that soon escaped his throat causing her to ache with need.

Another sound altogether broke their embrace, that of the door opening.

Someone else had just entered the room.

…

The Doctor had only wanted to check on Rose.

He really should have realised his more human self would have had the same idea. He also should have realised that his more human self, with all his human hormones, was a lot more likely to engage in that kind of _physicality _with Rose.

It was one thing to be aware of the two of them getting closer. It was another one altogether to witness it.

He didn’t witness it for long, either. Just long enough for his entrance to be noticed, quickly turning on his heels and exiting the room.

His reaction didn’t have anything to do with being jealous, though. He was a Time Lord. He did not get _jealous_.

True, he’d never reacted well to anyone showing Rose a bit too much attention. Especially when she’d responded to that attention. He used to get particularly annoyed about it back when his ears were a tad bigger. And he couldn’t deny how his current face _might_ be a direct result from him noticing Rose’s fondness for pretty boys.

All right, so maybe he did get a bit jealous from time to time, but this was different. What he felt towards his metacrisis self wasn’t jealousy.

Envy?

Possibly.

He half-expected Rose to do what she did then – run after him, but he was almost surprised by how quickly she made it out of the infirmary.

“Doctor, wait!”

He stopped, giving himself a second before turning to look at her; she’d obviously rushed out of the room, still working on fastening the bedsheet around her, trying to cover herself up. Her hair was a mess, her face flushed, and he knew her well enough to realise this physiological reaction alone wasn’t just caused by embarrassment at having been caught snogging another version of him.

“It’s fine,” he told her before she could find her voice again. He meant it, too, even if he couldn’t really look at her as he said these words. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“We just…” she tried anyway. When he dared a glance at her, standing awkwardly a few metres away and still clutching at the sheet, only _then_ did he realise there wasn’t any dressing left on her jaw and neck.

The dressing was not only gone, so was most of the burn it’d been covering.

Rose obviously noticed his change of focus and the shock that had to be displayed all over his face. “I know,” she said in a thick voice. “It healed fast.”

He met her eyes again, and held her gaze, opening his mouth to ask _how_, but the word never made it out.

“Doctor, what happened in there – ” she tried, but he stopped her again.

“_Don’t_.”

He’d not meant to sound this…rough. Still, the way he spoke that one word caused her to recoil a little.

“I get it.” He swallowed hard, unable to maintain eye contact. “I’m the one who suggested you two stayed together in the other universe,” he reminded her, more quietly. “It’s fine,” he repeated, even if his voice didn’t sound it at all; he sounded more hollowed than _fine_. “I’ll be in the control room when you’re ready. We need to take Frankie home.”

He didn’t wait for her to speak, leaving her standing there in the corridor.

_It doesn’t mean she can’t have you, too_.

As he walked further away from her, Donna’s words echoed in his head, over and over again, the way it often did, no matter how hard he tried suppressing this ridiculous and frankly preposterous notion.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it, because ultimately, he knew Donna was right.

Rose’s behaviour just now, running after him to try and justify kissing another version of him, made it clear she didn’t want to lose him any more than he wanted to lose her, but that was beyond the point.

He’d allowed himself to be vulnerable with her, before. He’d allowed this young human to bury herself so deep within his hearts, even when he’d known her time with him was bound to be fleeting.

Had this other him forgotten? How he had hoped, and how he’d loved, only to lose her in the blink of an eye, when she’d been sucked into that other world?

How he’d been left all alone, with that gaping hole in his chest.

He’d never really recovered from that loss, despite being a veteran in the art of losing. He didn’t think he would be able to cope if he went there again; if he allowed her in, the way he had before.

He supposed his counterpart and his human lifespan had the luxury of _death_ to look forwards to, in a few decades. He didn’t, having at least one regeneration cycle left for him to use.

How many centuries would he have to live on without her?

…

Rose was already inside her shower when she realised she’d never gone back to the infirmary after her brief encounter with the Doctor.

She’d been upset, with herself as well as with him, not to mention confused, ending up walking back to her room in a bit of a haze, needing to rid herself of the grime still layering her skin…until the thought of the other Doctor waiting for her in that infirmary, alone and forgotten, hit her like a bucket of cold water poured all over her.

Which meant that she was now upset, confused _and_ guilt ridden.

She quickly got dressed again, not even taking the time to examine the rest of her scars. Unsurprisingly, by the time she made it back there, he’d gone. She wasn’t too surprised either when she heard their raised voices coming from the control room long before she reached it.

Both Doctors were standing on opposite sides of the console, rowing with each other the way they did. Donna was leaning against a pillar, Frankie in her arms.

She noticed Rose before any of the men, who were properly self-absorbed again. “Blimey, you heal fast,” Donna noted with a frown Rose had seen on everyone’s face today.

“What’s going on?” she asked, ignoring her comment the way she’d ignored the Doctors’. Frankie had turned his head on Donna’s shoulder, looking at her; when Rose offered him a smile, he returned it timidly.

“Oh, you know.” Donna half-shrugged. “They just realised this young lad here is actually named Frank Lloyd Wright. He’s gonna grow up to be some big shot architect apparently. Ever heard of the Guggenheim Museum?” It was Rose’s turn to shrug, as it did sound vaguely familiar. “Well,_ he’_s gonna design it,” she said, indicating the child currently picking at his nose. “They’re arguing whether or not they should erase his memories.”

Rose refocused on the Doctors, not really paying attention to what they were saying, more to their body language. Even though she knew they were debating over Frankie, she definitely felt responsible for the renewed vehemence in the way they snapped at the other.

“Oi!” Donna eventually stopped them. “The boy’s _four_,” she reminded them. “Even if he retains some memories from this, because let’s be honest, it’s been kind of a traumatic day for him, what’s the worst that can happen? Him designing a building shaped like this control room?”

“Well…” they said together with that tilt of the head again, which successfully shut them up, glowering away.

“Let’s just take him home, yeah?” Rose told them quietly, unable to keep herself from blushing when they both focused their gaze on her.

Her heart squeezed when the human Doctor quickly looked away, obviously unwilling to look at her for long, but she was relieved when they focused on the controls in front of them without arguing.

Less than two minutes later, they were landing – almost smoothly, too.

“We’re too early,” the Doctor in brown stated, shouting another nasty look at his counterpart.

“You’re the one who claimed trying to land at any other point would cause him to lose days instead of hours,” the other defended himself, just as sweetly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Rose stopped them, her weariness obvious in her voice, now. “It’s still the next night, yeah?”

Both Doctor gave a short nod, Rose already walking to the doors to take a look outside herself.

Her heart sank as her lungs filled up with the sickeningly familiar smell of smoke.

…

From the look on Rose’s face, they all knew at once that they were, indeed, too early.

“I thought you said it was gonna rain,” she spoke in a tremoring voice, her gaze transfixed on what was going on outside.

The Doctor glanced at his more human self, before joining Rose in the doorway, taking in the scene before them.

It was night again, and they’d landed on a different spot from last night, further away from the city, but they were close enough to see that a whole flank of it was still ablaze.

“It will,” he told her, his voice low. “We’re just…early.”

Donna was the first to break the silence.

“You could do it.”

They all looked at her. She’d stayed further behind in the control room, Frankie still tucked in her arms. As he stared at her, the Doctor almost saw the clogs turning in her brain.

“You made it snow, once,” she reminded them. “_Basic atmospheric excitation_ or whatnots?” she continued. “If you can make it snow, what's stopping you from making it rain?”

He exchanged another glance with his counterpart, who looked about as stern as he felt, although he already seemed to be softening to the idea.

“No,” he told him, point blank. “We’re not getting involved again.”

“We’re already involved,” the other man replied tersely. “We didn’t exactly stand idle last night.”

“Last night was different.” He was struggling not to sound as irritable as he felt again. “Stopping the Krimnins didn’t keep the fire from spreading. Making it rain will.”

“That city’s been burning for a whole bloody _day_!” Donna snapped, and from the look on her face, he knew the only reason why she wasn’t fully bellowing was because of the child in her arms.

The Doctor was opening his mouth to reply when he was stopped by his more human self:

“Rose’s gone again,” he announced, as if it was an inevitability.

The Doctor turned to find Rose gone from his side indeed; she was already quite a distance away from the TARDIS, making her way back towards the burning city.

“Rose!” he called after her, quickly catching up to her.

When he reached out a hand, she jerked away from his touch.

“_Don’t_,” she said as she turned to face him, quiet fury distorting her face. “Isn’t it all you know how to say, these days?”

“I – ”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she cut him off, her voice trembling with frustration. “I’m fed up with it, with being told to stand there, listening to you explaining over and over again why we shouldn’t get involved, when all you’ve got to do is press a button to make it stop. I really don’t care what you do anymore, but ‘m getting back out there.”

“There’s no point!” he shouted, and it stopped her in her tracks. “No matter what you do, or how many people you help, hundreds of them have already died! Thousands have lost their homes. It’s all lost. _Done_!”

Her expression began to change as she stared at him through the flakes of ash falling upon them, pain blending with her anger. She was quiet for so long he thought she was simply going to turn around and walk away from him.

But she spoke, eventually, her voice quiet, yet already thicker. “D’you remember what you told me the other night?”

He swallowed hard. “I say a lot of things.”

The pained smile she gave him looked more like a grimace. “You accused _him_ of being too impulsive, of being too human, because he’d let Oq’i use his mind to clear Donna’s. Remember that?”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even nod, but she knew he remembered their interaction just fine.

“Thing is, all these years I spent trapped in that other universe, trying to get back here? That’s how I chose to remember _you_.” She took a couple of steps closer to him, as if in emphasis. “I remembered a man who jumped in and helped, no matter the odds. I remembered this absolutely _bonkers_ alien throwing himself down a lift shaft and into a crowd of infected people on the off chance that _maybe_ he’d figured out a way to cure them all.” A couple of tears rolled down her cheeks as her face constricted. “What happened to ‘_everybody lives’_, Doctor?”

It felt like both his hearts were lodged in his throat, obstructing his vocal cords. He shouldn’t be this surprised by how easily she’d found and pressed on all of his buttons; her ability to see right through him was one of the things that had made her so different from anyone else, from the moment they met.

He couldn’t bear that look on her face, though. Beyond the pain and frustration she felt for this hopeless shell he’d become, there was…_disappointment_. And that hurt, more than anything else. That she would judge him, think him unworthy of her time and effort to make it back to him.

“You don’t understand,” he eventually managed to say, forcing the words out of his throat.

“Then help me understand,” she said, now standing close enough to grab one of his hands, squeezing his fingers. “_Please_,” she breathed out, everything from her tone to her body language begging him to let her in. “Talk to me.”

The Doctor shook his head, swallowing almost convulsively as he tried to get away from her, but she held on tight to his fingers. “I can’t,” he choked out.

Next thing he knew, she’d pulled his hand up and pressed it to her face. “Then _show_ me!” she almost demanded.

He nearly gave in. Nearly let her feel everything he felt, so she would understand why he was the way he was.

Letting go of all that pain was so tempting, to just…let it all out, everything that had festered in him these past few years, from his chronic loneliness to months of being tortured by an old friend, to almost getting murdered by a group of humans on a bus not two weeks ago.

He tried keeping it all in, he really did, but her mind pleaded with his without her even knowing _how_, until he let himself go in that one second of weakness and desperation, and it poured out of him like blood from a torn artery.

He reined it all in a mere instant after it happened, trapping it all back inside his head and well away from hers, but it was too little too late.

Enough of it had seeped through.

Her mind remained fully opened, letting him feel _her_ pain, the one she felt on his behalf, more tears trickling down as she clutched at his fingers upon her face.

_I’m sorry_.

He was the one pleading, now, begging her to forgive him again, to forgive him for being weak, for being old, for being so bloody _tired_ of it all.

Rose finally let go of his hand to wrap her arms around him instead, leaning forward until her face was pressed to his chest. Had he been merely human, the way she tightened her hold on him would have been enough to squeeze all the air from his lungs.

But he wasn’t merely human.

He let her use every ounce of strength she possessed, his nose buried in her ash-covered hair while he held her close with one of his arms, his other hand on her face, keeping their bond open. He felt her guilt as she felt it, her guilt for having caused him pain simply by being gone, even as he absorbed the echo of _her_ pain, from all these years of missing him.

And once again, the Doctor sensed the shift in the atmosphere instants before Rose became aware of the change herself, as thick drops of water began falling upon them. He didn’t know if this was natural, or if back on their TARDIS, his other self had pressed that one button.

He realised he didn’t _want_ to know.

Still connected to Rose, he felt the jolt that shook her very core when she realised it was raining. She moved, just enough to unpin herself from his chest, her arms looser around him as she tilted her head towards the sky, and welcomed the falling rain.

The hope and relief swelling inside of her were soon rushing through their bond, until they were swelling inside of him, too. He let them.

He let them wash some of his pain away, the way rainwater was washing ashes from her skin.

Something was shifting, deep within him, and in that one moment of clarity, he decided to ignore his fears. He ignored his bone-deep fatigue, just as he ignored his awareness of time, ticking her human life away.

He brought his second hand to her face and buried all five of his fingers in her hair, squeezing water out of it even as more of it poured down on them, Rose tilting her head down to lock her gaze with his.

He made his intentions clear through the pulsing of their bond, and she responded with a _tug_, pulling at his very self. Maybe not physically, but in every other way that mattered, drawing him deep inside of her.

The truth was…he’d forgotten. She’d been an open wound for so long, he’d forgotten what _this_ felt like.

Having her healing him.

Holding on tight to that flickering hope cradled in his hands, the Doctor leaned down, and kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If some of you (*cough* Lindsay *cough*) are wondering when the rating of this fic will finally move away and up from this sad little T, the answer is…soon…ish. I set up to writing a slow burn, after all, even if it hurts me, so I’m sticking to it. At least for a little while longer :p Start placing your bets on who you think will snap first. (hint: it’s me)
> 
> As always, I loooove to hear from you. Any feedback is deeply appreciated ♥


	13. Merrily, Merrily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone really should check on Tentoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 50,000 words to this fic!! I honestly can't believe I'm there already. Here's to the next 50,000 words, because believe me, I have no doubt I'll get it there hahahaaaaaa.
> 
> Thank you all so much for all your kind words and support these past few months, it means more than you know. Stay safe ♥

**Chapter Thirteen – Merrily, Merrily**

His glasses did not, in fact, simply get stomped on, back in town.

Oh, they did fall off his face, and his foot did end up on top of them, which resulted in both lenses cracking and in the frame snapping. What he’d failed to tell Rose was what had led to that rather insignificant incident.

How he’d nothing short of frozen, right there in the middle of the street, until someone ran into him, with enough force to dislodge the spectacles from his face as he stumbled forward, causing him to step on them with his full weight.

He blamed it on the screams, to be honest.

Chaos and the occasional _screaming_ had been an integral part of his life for centuries; these elements were hard to avoid when one sought out trouble the way he did. It definitely was not the first time he found himself thrown in a setting that hit too close to home – or what used to be home.

It was, however, the first time he found himself in such setting in this particular hybrid form; the _slight_ mental distress he’d been experiencing ever since he’d helped Donna back on Felspoon clearly did not help.

At all.

They’d already been tracking the Krimnins for some time when he’d realised that his usual coping mechanisms weren’t quite as efficient or reliable as they used to be. Running through a burning city wasn’t pleasant by any stretch of the imagination, bound to cause some physical tension and aches. He wasn’t exerting himself nearly enough to explain why his heart was beating as fast as it did, though. And ‘increasing heat caused by big looming fire’ certainly did not account for the heavy dread that twisted his insides, or for how difficult breathing had become.

Rose getting hurt had been both a distraction, and a rather massive stressor, as far as anxiety went.

He felt somewhat better once they’d treated her wounds. He’d not liked being shunned by his counterpart again, when his original self claimed he could go deal with ‘things’ on his own, but to be fair, considering the way his body had been trembling by then, or how his heart kept on pounding in his chest despite the lack of immediate threat, being forced to sit that one out hadn’t been such a bad thing.

He’d been in his bathroom, trying to wash soot from his face, when the screaming had resumed, unable to tell if they were the screams he’d heard in the city tonight, or if they were echoes from, let’s say…Gallifrey. He eventually realised that, of course, it was all in his head, but it didn’t matter much at the time.

Screams were screams, real or not. They were the manifestation of the terrors he’d seen.

Of the terrors he’d caused.

So what if he’d gotten so worked up that he hadn’t been able to breathe at all, while his pathetic human heart tried to beat itself out of his chest? He’d managed to get his breathing under control eventually, hadn’t he? Enough to get back up, anyway.

He was _fine_.

Sure, he occasionally heard voices in his head, and he’d only slept a total of maybe…seven hours since he’d regenerated into a body that clearly required a lot more, and every single time he’d managed to get some of that rest, he’d been plagued with horrible nightmares.

But really, he was fine.

_Molto bene._

He was bound to start feeling even better, now that the rain was finally falling.

Without his glasses, and given the lack of light, he couldn’t see much of anything. To him, the fiery night scene unfolding in front of him was little more than a watercolour done with messy fingers, only able to see the gleaming, hazy streaks of auburn and gold in the horizon, where the city still burned.

Contrasted by this brighter background, he could almost make out their darker silhouettes, some distance away.

Myopic vision or not, he saw enough to understand what was going on, especially when their two shapes seemed to merge into one.

As he watched, the blurry colours began to dim, the fire getting slowly smothered by the pouring rain, swallowing the intertwined lovers into darkness, while the first few lines of a nursery rhyme he’d never learned himself played in a loop in his rowdy mind, triggered by the petrichor in the air.

_Row, row, row your boat…_

Something heavy had replaced his insides, all the while bearing down on his shoulders. It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t pain either.

_…gently down the stream…_

Rose had repeatedly made it clear that she was more drawn to this…_him_, after all, to the man he used to be before he was reborn in this form. He may have been in the other man’s shoes, only an hour ago, lost in the taste of her breath, in the sheer feel of her, as she offered him the first moment of comfort he’d felt in hours, that beautiful mirage had shattered when she ran out of the room – after _him_, and didn’t come back.

_Row, row, row your boat…_

It wasn’t even that difficult to understand why she’d caved with him a couple of times. He was a close second. Not bad at all, as far as cheap substitution went.

_…GENTLY DOWN THE STREAM…_

The Doctor jumped when a hand came to rest on his arm, his heart leaping to his throat as it went back to racing beneath his ribs.

He looked away from the night, meeting Donna’s eyes. She gave him the kind of smile he rarely saw directed his way – she knew how much he disliked it when she did. There was no mocking, not a hint of amusement.

Just…sympathy.

He knew it wasn’t pity. Now more than ever, he understood the very roots of her compassion, that infallible need of hers to _do something_, preferably kind, even if she ended up shouting that kindness around.

Understanding it didn’t make it any more bearable.

Thankfully, Donna knew him as much as he knew her – probably better, too. She didn’t wait for him to find something clumsy to say, not bothering with unnecessary words of comfort either.

“We’re a bit far from town,” she said instead. “I’m not trekking all the way there in that downpour with a four year old attached to my hip.” She tilted her head towards the console. “Think you can move us inside the city without messing with time?”

The Doctor looked at the console, in front of which Frankie was now standing, pushed up on his tip-toes as he examined the panel with obvious interest.

He quickly joined the young boy at the centre of the room. “How about giving me a hand piloting my ship, eh?” the Doctor offered. Frankie stared up at him with rounded eyes, before nodding enthusiastically.

They obviously couldn’t go anywhere until the other two finished whatever they’d started outside, but they could at least get the sequence ready – a welcome distraction, compliment of one Donna Noble.

The child, who’d seemed nothing short of mute since they’d brought him onboard, found his voice again as the Doctor showed him which buttons to press, or in which direction to turn the various dials, asking question after question about their function. The Doctor was a bit taken aback by how patient he found himself to be with the boy’s curiosity – a lot more than he would have been only a few days ago.

He ended up sitting at the edge of the jump seat with Frankie on his lap as he explained the meaning of the different symbols displayed on the screen, Donna standing at their side.

“Took you long enough.”

Her sardonic comment broke his own stream of words, only now realising that the others had indeed stepped back onto the ship, now standing in the entrance.

“Don’t start,” his original self said. Although there was a hint of warning in his voice, he sounded almost…mollified, which was odd – especially for someone who looked like a wet dog.

The Doctor quickly focused his attention on the woman standing next to his counterpart, equally drenched, yet unequivocally beautiful in comparison.

His insides dipped when their eyes met at once, realising that she’d been looking at him.

Their eye-contact did not last, Rose’s eyes darting up to meet the other man’s gaze; he’d grabbed his long coat hanging near the doors and draped it around Rose’s shoulders, now rubbing at her arms to try and infuse heat.

“Thanks,” she breathed out, not quietly enough to conceal the chattering of her teeth.

The Doctor had seen enough, his insides already back to feeling both heavy and hollowed, refocusing on the child sitting on his lap, pointing at one specific button.

“Take us home, Frankie.”

That trip didn’t take long.

When the ship quieted down again, a heavy kind of silence settled in the control room, which was unusual, given the number of typically _loud_ and chatty people present. Even with his eyes firmly trained on the console in front of him, the Doctor almost felt the uneasy tension crackling all around them.

_Row, row, row your boat…_

“It makes little sense for all of us to go back out,” his original self eventually spoke.

Another silence.

“I…really need to change,” Rose said.

The Doctor still didn’t look at her, but he heard the strain in her voice well enough; it wasn’t difficult to understand why she was reluctant to go to a shelter, to drop off a child who clearly reminded her of her brother.

_…gently down the stream…_

“I’ll go with Wet Noodle, here,” Donna offered kindly. “And you…” she poke the Doctor’s shoulder until he looked up at her with a scowl. “You need to get some rest.”

He opened his mouth to protest that he was fine, absolutely _fine_, but she gave him the kind of look that usually preceded some form of slapping. He noted the concern in her eyes, too, only now realising that Donna may have been more aware of his recent struggles than he’d initially thought.

He didn’t protest, even if he knew there was no way he was going to attempt sleep again if he could help it, standing up and handing the child over to Donna.

“Thank you, co-pilot.” He winked at the boy with a forced smile. “Have a good life.”

He left the control room as fast as he could, still avoiding everyone’s gaze.

As soon as he was back in his room, he took another shower, trying to physically relax. He felt the pull of exhaustion in every bone of his body, now, his muscles aching not only from lack of sleep, but from his excessive stress, too, having been so tense for so many hours, a headache pulsing dully behind his skull.

He also took the time to shave, nothing short of despising his reflection in the mirror at the moment, hoping that looking a bit more like himself would help him _feel_ more like himself.

He still put on a clean blue suit, because why bother?

Despite his unwillingness to sleep, he started dozing off as soon as he lay down on his bed…only to wake up a few minutes later to more screaming – all imaginary, as it turned out; they’d felt real enough to get his heart pounding again, his budding headache closer to a migraine, now. Soon, nausea was joining the mix of unpleasant symptoms.

He had no idea how much time had passed when he left his room. Not something he ever thought would happen, yet here he was. Unable to function without a watch to tell time, or a pair of glasses to correct his vision.

As he walked through the corridors, on his way to the workshop to fix his bloody spectacles, he noticed that the door to the garden was slightly ajar, which stopped him in his tracks. He himself never ventured much down there, although most of his human companions had a certain fondness for the place. Donna in particular liked going there after a rough trip; she claimed that looking after potatoes and courgettes helped empty her mind.

Rose…not so much.

He’d taken her down to the garden only a few days after she’d joined him on his ship, all these years ago. Curious as she was, she’d nothing short of demanded he showed her around.

The _whole_ thing, she’d said.

“The ship’s infinite,” he’d stated with a scowl. “D’you have any idea how long it’d take us to go through an _infinite_ number of rooms, Rose Tyler?”

“We’re in a time machine, yeah?” she’d asked, cheekily. “What’s the rush?”

She’d done that…_thing_, then, the tip of her tongue poking out from between her teeth as she smiled; even as a grumpy Time Lord who didn’t experience attraction the way these humans seemed to experience it, he remembered being stricken by how captivating this one human was, in so many ways.

Although she’d been rightfully impressed by the sheer size and looks of the ship’s main garden, she’d months later admitted that this was probably the room that felt the most…out of place to her.

“It’s a garden in_ space_,” she’d said, as if she wasn’t in space herself as she said these words. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful and all that but…Dunno. I guess I like the real thing better, you know? All these places I get to see with you…Nothing compares to that.”

And he got it.

Nothing compared to her.

He was already squinting by the time he stepped into the garden, having somehow forgotten how bright the artificial light was in this area of the ship; a few centuries ago, he’d tried tweaking the high ceiling to make it look more like a realistic sky, but his results had been…poor.

The rich UV light might be keeping the plants alive and healthy, it was doing nothing for his headache, feeling the strong _thumps thumps _of his heart within his skull, its rhythm still faster than it should be. He couldn’t remember the place ever being _this_ humid either, finding himself sweating only moments after stepping into the large room; of all of his newly acquired human traits, this one was without a doubt amongst his least favourite.

He had not been here in a while, but from what he could see of it, it hadn’t changed much, if not for some new growth here and there. Most plants looked like they could have been found on Earth, while others looked particularly different, from their unusual shapes to their atypical colours.

The smells had always been what bothered him the most, and it felt worse in his current state. Too many conflicting heady scents making him slightly dizzy on top of the rest.

He noticed Rose before she noticed him; crouched on the grass, half-concealed behind a row of electric blue foxgloves, she seemed absorbed with what she was looking at. 

He knew exactly what she was looking at, too. He was the fool who’d _planted_ it there.

The lack of roses in this garden had been somewhat of a joke between them, back when she travelled with him. That first time he’d taken her down there and she’d pointed it out to him, he’d admitted that he’d always found their fragrance too strong for him. Misinterpreting her observation as a criticism, he’d immediately offered to take her to the biggest plantation of roses in this galaxy – so big that it covered eighty-three percent of the planet’s surface! – but she’d quickly stopped him.

“I don’t want roses,” she’d assured him. “Don’t care much for them either. People’ve been giving me roses since I was old enough to hold a stem in my hand. Every boyfriend I’ve ever had also thought bringing me a bunch of smelly flowers was the best way into my heart.”

The Doctor remembered thinking in that moment that he would therefore never bring her roses – not that he planned on becoming her _boyfriend_, obviously.

How ludicrous would that be?

Still, he’d teasingly told her as much – promised never to give her roses…except in the unlikely scenario where force-feeding her rose petals was the only way to neutralise some deadly toxin in her blood, but he assured her the likelihood of this happening was only naught-point-four percent.

And yet, years later, there it was, in the middle of its own little bush in this patch of meadow. One single rose rising from the ground, its stem sharp with thorns.

If the Rose currently looking at it had any doubt about its significance, the flower’s blend of colours, which shifted seamlessly from pink to yellow, was particularly telling.

“It’s called a sunset rose.”

She startled at the sound of his voice, almost losing her balance as she turned to look at him.

He kept his distance, trying to give himself an air of nonchalance, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his blue trousers; he doubted that was enough to conceal the physical discomfort he was in, though, his body much too tensed, his head pounding, while sweat still trickled between his shoulder blades.

The way she peered up at him with growing concern confirmed that she wasn’t that convinced by his façade.

“Others call it ‘the aurora’,” he continued before she could say anything. “_Soleil d’or_, the French named it, which literally means ‘golden sun’. Tells you everything you need to know about French people, if you ask me. Naming something that’s peach-yellow and pink, _golden_. Has to be all that wine they drink.” He gave a half-shrug. “That, or they’re just really cheeky.”

Rose broke their eye-contact to look back at the flower. “I thought you didn’t like their smell,” she said quietly, and the fact alone that she remembered this piece of information from all these years ago caused his heart to squeeze in his chest.

“I…don’t,” he admitted.

She looked back up at him, and he felt himself blush, averting his eyes as he raised a hand to the back of his head to ruffle his hair, not exactly willing to explain how he’d planted the rose in one lame moment of sentimentality and grief.

“It’s beautiful,” she spoke softly, and from her tone alone, he understood she wasn’t simply talking about the flower.

He cleared his throat, his hand slipping back in his pocket as he shuffled on the spot, still not feeling brave enough to meet her eyes. “I’m surprised to find you down here, too.”

When Rose started clicking her tongue loudly, and quite a few times, he finally looked at her, his face scrunching up in confusion. She let out a silent chuckle at his reaction, before pointing behind him.

He turned around, just in time to see a little ball of colour zoom past him through the grass and straight into Rose’s outstretched hands.

She picked up the little Yesook, a beautiful smile stretching her lips as she straightened back up, caressing the critter’s fluffy fur.

“I figured he’d be much happier down here, rather than being cooped up in my room all day long,” she said, talking to the Yesook more than to him.

Watching her thread her fingers through its fur brought back recent memories of her fingers doing the same thing to _his_ hair.

Unfortunately, the Doctor felt a tad too rough for this pleasant memory to cheer him up in any way, especially when it was immediately followed by the memory of her running out of the room, wondering if she’d done the same thing to the other’s hair, back outside.

Again, what he felt towards his original self wasn’t jealousy.

Envy?

Possibly.

For the most part he just felt…resigned.

When several moments passed and the Doctor didn’t say anything, Rose looked up to meet his eyes, but he quickly averted his gaze. The tension that was growing between them was anything but pleasant.

It felt thick and almost tangible, filling up that large space between them.

“Look…” she eventually tried, so hesitantly that it caused his heart to ache almost as much as his head.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he stopped her. “Or to explain yourself,” he added. “I get it.”

This, apparently, was the wrong thing to say.

He watched as her body language changed, going from hesitant to tense, her face closing up as her gaze became hard.

“’m getting tired of you two telling me that. How about you listen to what I’ve got to say instead?”

His sweat suddenly felt cold against his skin, his stomach turning into stone.

While he’d not yet had any reason to feel truly irritated while in her presence (unlike his counterpart), he couldn’t help the way his annoyance flared up. She was obviously equally annoyed with him as she was with the other Doctor, who’d apparently told her something similar.

He was about done with people using him to blow off their frustration, though, hurt by the simple fact that Rose had just snapped at him.

“Very well,” he said, his voice flat. “I’m listening.”

His words felt like an outright lie, everything from his tone to his body language clearly stating that he would rather _not_ listen to whatever it was she wanted to say.

Rose could still read him well enough to get this loud and clear, standing a few meters from him with clenched teeth as her face flushed in frustration, unable to maintain eye-contact.

Still, he waited, even when he knew she felt too vulnerable to open up, now.

“Great talk,” he heard himself say after another few seconds of this unbearable silence, in the kind of sardonic tone he’d heard Donna use once too many times.

It hit the spot, too.

Rose looked back at him with the kind of glare that would have scared more than one enemy away.

That anger didn’t last.

He watched as it seemed to trickle out of her, her shoulders slumping in something close to defeat, looking away with vacant eyes. Seconds later, she was walking passed him, towards the exit.

He did not stop her.

…

Donna was getting a tad worried about that metacrisis twin of hers.

Despite his claims that everything was ‘_fine_’, she was perceptive enough to know he was not fine at all. The man had been _way_ too jumpy, back in town, and nowhere as focused as she’d known him to be in a crisis.

The whole ‘drama’ thing going on with Rose was obviously not helping.

Donna might only be observing it from the sidelines, she’d spent _hours_ of her life watching soaps on the telly, when she wasn’t gossiping about her co-workers’ love life.

These three were a mess.

From where Donna stood, it looked like a game of whack-a-mole, with Rose holding the mallet, which she was using to whack one Doctor or the other, probably in the hope of knocking some sense into them.

As soon as she got one of them to stop moping around, unfortunately, the other one popped right back out with a fresh dose of _misery_.

She couldn’t blame the girl for looking as weary as she did, the next time they all stood together in the control room, keeping her distance from both men.

Donna had been the one to request this ‘meeting’ of sorts.

“I’d like to go home,” she announced.

None of the Doctors spoke, undoubtedly remembering the way they’d made fools of themselves the last time she’d made this announcement.

“These last few days have been…kinda rough,” she admitted.

She encompassed everything she’d experienced in that statement, from finding her home planet gone to nearly getting her brain fried by a metacrisis, not to mention the few hours spent in a burning city, or how she’d witnessed the aftermath of this devastation when they’d brought Frankie to a shelter.

“I need to see my family, check up on them,” she added. “Not long after that whole ‘stolen Earth’ thing went down, if that’s okay. You can just drop me off, too. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than hanging around for a cuppa.”

“I’d…like to come, actually,” Rose said, her voice unusually thick. “I met them the other day, your Mum and grandad? It’ll be nice to catch up.”

The Doctor in brown acquiesced with a nod and a small smile. “Always got time for a cuppa.”

The other Doctor’s response was a tad more unexpected.

“I’ll sit that one out.”

All eyes turned on him. Leaning back against a pillar with his arms crossed, he was trying to look indifferent, but there was something _off_ about the way he stood – or with the colour of his skin.

“Not planning on pouting in your room, are you?” Donna couldn’t help but ask.

For some reason, he did not find this funny at all, clenching his jaws, before taking a sharp inhale through his nose.

“I just think two of us going out there will be more confusing than anything else to your Mum and grandad. It’ll be ‘one too many’, remember.”

The following silence was _heavy_.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” her metacrisis twin continued, rubbing at his forehead, as if someone had actually asked him if he was feeling alright.

He obviously wasn’t.

When none of them spoke, watching his jittery moves with growing concern, he turned around, and left the control room altogether.

Donna made to follow him, not without throwing a nasty look towards the Time Lord Doctor first.

“What?” he asked, having the nerves to sound offended. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You sure didn’t, you arse,” Donna said, before stepping out of the room.

Soon, she was banging on his bedroom’s door.

A bit louder each time he continued to ignore her.

“C’mon, Hand Boy. I was only joking that time I said you were likely to go through puberty, you know. You really don’t have to prove me right.”

The door opened abruptly, and she found herself looking up at him, his face creased in an unattractive glower.

“Stop.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Stop…what?”

“Calling me _Hand Boy_,” he almost hissed.

Donna stared at him, before nodding her head, subdued. “Fair enough.”

He’d let go of the door, stepping back into his room, soon sitting down heavily at the edge of his mattress. Donna went to join him, leaving a gap between them as she suspected he needed space at the moment.

“Wanna talk about it?” she offered, not a trace of teasing in her voice.

He shook his head, once. “No.”

She observed his profile, from the dark circle under the eye she could see, to the tense traits of his face, his skin too pale. He also appeared to be trembling a little.

“Do you need help?” she asked next, because no incarnation of the Doctor would ever let go of their pride long enough to _ask_ for it.

He made a sound, almost like a scoff, even though there was no smile on his lips, half-shrugging his shoulders.

Donna sighed, pursing her lips as she continued to fix him with her most unrelenting stare.

“Can I be honest?” was her next question.

He actually peered at her from the corner of his eye, giving her _a look_. “I wasn’t aware I had a choice in that.”

“True.” She tilted her head. “Remember what I told you, back in the kitchen, about you being a wimp?”

He briefly closed his eyes, his turn to sigh.

“I’m not trying to be mean,” she said, and he looked back at her. “My whole point was that you’ve got to assert yourself more, _especially_ when the other one’s being an arse.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she didn’t give him a chance. “I get it, trust me. I spent years being a pushover.”

He scowled at her. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“Just tap into these memories we share, then,” she said. “I was always a tad shouty, comes with the package I suppose, but I mostly shouted at my parents. Other people, they just…walked all over me. Until I got fed up with it. So I started shouting at them, too. You’d be impressed how many grown men and women actually shrivel when you yell a little.”

She actually spotted the shadow of a smile on his lips. “Oh, I’ve seen it often enough. Men, women, ten feet tall aliens…” The smile quickly disappeared. “I don’t think _shouting_ would get me very far, though.”

“Nah it wouldn’t, your voice gets too squeaky. Plus, shouting’s my thing anyway,” she warned him. “Doesn’t mean you can’t tell the other one to shut up when he really needs to shut up. That includes whenever he’s trying to make you feel or believe that you’re less than you are.”

She’d pressed right on where it hurt, and she knew it, too, watching as he swallowed hard, unable to look at her anymore, and she reached out, resting a hand on his back.

“Don’t let him get to you,” she said, quietly. “No matter what he says, you’re the Doctor, too. Which makes you family.” She paused. “It would mean a lot, if you agreed to come with me.”

That was a low blow, but she’d never been against playing dirty if it got her what she wanted.

She was considerate enough to look away when his eyes got a little misty, though.

“You’re way too good at this,” he eventually noted in a thick voice.

Donna smirked.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is not mandatory, but as always, it is deeply appreciated ♥


	14. Life is But a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep deprivation is not a joke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that a…change in _rating_? 
> 
> Oh yes, indeed it is. Not a giant leap, more like a careful step, but that step was still enough to take this story into the M rated territory.
> 
> Enjoy :p
> 
> (On a more serious note, I'm putting a PTSD trigger warning on this chapter)

**Chapter Fourteen – Life is But a Dream**

Rose did not realise she’d been nibbling on her thumbnail until she felt a small twinge of pain in her finger, where she’d reached more sensitive skin.

_I’m gonna cut that finger off one of these days_, her Mum used to shout when Rose would gnaw on her thumb to the point of blood. _Would cost me a lot less in plasters!_

She pushed the memory of her voice away, just as she pushed her hands into her armpits, crossing her arms in a pointless attempt at keeping herself from doing it again. Having just been left alone with the Doctor who had _not_ fled the control room, she had no other choice but to focus on him.

Leaning back against the console, his hands shoved in the pockets of his brown suit, he was observing her.

She really didn’t know how else to describe the way he was looking at her.

She felt her cheeks warm up, unable not to think about how this was the first time they were alone since…_outside_.

Ever since their little ‘interlude’ in the rain, he seemed calmer. More grounded, and a lot more willing to listen.

The same couldn’t be said about his counterpart.

It was like the two of them had swapped places when she wasn’t looking – now _that_ was a concept bound to give her a headache.

Rose didn’t understand much, but she understood enough to realise the other Doctor’s recent shift in attitude was not _entirely_ related to whatever was going on between…all of them.

He really didn’t look good when he left the room.

“Is he…” Rose tried, her voice catching. “Is what happened to Donna happening to him, too?”

This ‘saner’ Doctor shook his head. “It’s been too long for this to be caused by the metacrisis. It’s more likely to be a consequence from what he did back on Felspoon, when he let the Theihraths siphon Donna’s excess of memories into his mind.” A pause. “The fact that he’s obviously suffering from sleep deprivation is clearly not helping. His brain might still be primarily Time Lord, the human part of it needs that down time to reboot itself and make sense of what happened, the way any human brain would. As long as he stays awake like this, he’s only going to get worse.”

Rose thought back to when she’d had to wake him up in the infirmary, a few hours ago. It was a little too easy to picture him struggling to sleep like that every time he’d tried, these past few days.

She startled out of her reverie when she felt the Doctor’s hand on hers, which she’d brought back to her lips without thinking, gnawing on her nail again.

“He’ll be all right,” the Doctor told her as he gently pulled her hand down, and she shivered at his proximity and contact. “Once he gets a few good night’s sleep, his mind will settle.”

Rose was about to ask him if there was anything they could do to help him in the meantime, when she realised that she’d not only heard his reassurance, she also _felt _it, like fleeting ripples of warmth passing through her.

She couldn’t help but frown as she glanced down at their joined hands, before looking back at him. She didn’t even need to ask, wondering if he’d felt her confusion.

“Sorry,” he said with a small grimace. “I’m sorry. I’m a touch telepath, you see, and a bit of a rusty one at that. I didn’t do it consciously. I’m still a tad oversensitive from…ah, outside, I suppose.”

As he spoke, he’d made to release her hand to put an end to the contact between their skins, but Rose only tightened her grip on his fingers.

“’s fine,” she told him, wishing she knew how to send that emotion to him the way he’d just done with her. “I’m a little surprised, is all. I thought you needed to, you know…touch my face or something to do that kind of stuff.”

She felt her cheeks get warmer still as she remembered the way he’d held on to her, not so long ago, when he’d kissed her.

It had been…different.

An _intense_ kind of different.

There was no other way to describe it…how his very mind had seemed to wrap itself around hers, reaching places within her she didn’t even know existed, until she was so focused on the sensation of their bond stretching in an infinite number of tendrils that she’d barely been aware of her physical body anymore.

In comparison, the kiss she’d shared with her more human Doctor had been nothing short of…electrifying. As if she’d been aware of every single nerve in her body, in a way she’d never felt before, with any of the men she’d been with.

She remembered a bit too late that their hands were still clasped together, and judging by the way he was looking at her, his gaze unrelenting, the Doctor had to be getting at least _some_ traces of the emotions coursing through her.

“Touching someone’s temple is the surest way for me to peek into their mind, or to initiate a link,” he explained, his voice lower than usual. “It’s also the ‘clearest’ kind of connection. Less statics. But once a true bond has been established…”

He did something, _squeezing_ somehow, not physically but oh, she felt it all right, a hazy kind of heat blossoming straight from the centre of her mind.

“…then any kind of touch becomes a catalyst.”

It didn’t last, as he quickly receded from her mind all together, leaving an odd sense of emptiness in his wake.

_This_, Rose decided at once, was something she wanted to find out more about. Especially how to use it with him.

“Could you teach me?” she asked without thinking, the eagerness in her voice almost embarrassing. “I mean, is that even something I can learn to do properly, being human and all that?”

The way he looked at her was enough to ignite another kind of warmth, deep inside of her.

Before he could answer, Donna’s voice became audible in the nearest corridor, and they released each other’s hand, putting some distance between them.

“Off to Chiswick we go, then!” she exclaimed as she stepped into the control room, her twin not far behind. “You better take the helm this time, Spaceman. I don’t think my piloting skills are that reliable. Wouldn’t want us ending up on Mars!”

…

The Doctor was aware that pretending to be ‘fine’ was all kind of idiotic, especially when none of them seemed to be duped by his weak claims.

He’d always been a tad stubborn when it came to these things, though. There was no reason for him not to trust that _this_, whatever it was, would pass, like everything else always did.

The least amount of eye contact with anyone, the better, though.

“Uhm,” his counterpart said when he opened the door, the TARDIS now parked across the street from Donna’s house.

It was raining. Hard.

“Atmospheric disturbance. I landed us only half a day or so after we towed the Earth across the universe. I’m afraid there’s gonna be quite a bit of that. Still, it will pass.”

From where they stood, the house looked very, very far.

“Eh, just go and park her into our living room,” Donna eventually suggested.

“Isn’t that going to upset your Mum?”

“She’ll live.”

They heard Wilf’s yelps and shouts of delight before they even opened the doors again, Donna the first to step out.

“Told you it was her, Sylvia!” He was already meeting his granddaughter halfway, enclosing her in a tight hug. “Oh it’s good to see you, sweetheart, things have been absolutely bonkers down here!”

Sylvia stood in her dressing gown, mouth agape as she watched the three other people emerge from the blue box.

“Hello again,” Rose said with a tentative wave of her hand. “Sorry for the rude entrance it’s…really pouring out there.”

“Oh, never you mind,” Donna said. “Mum, close your mouth, you look daft.”

“_Donna!”_ Her Mum finally came back to her senses to stare at her daughter in affront.

“Well you do! Can’t possibly tell me a box materialising in your living room is the weirdest thing you’ve seen in the last twenty-four hours.”

While mother and daughter swiftly began bickering, Wilf went around, shaking everyone’s hand warmly, beaming from ear to ear…until his smile faltered a little, doing a double take as he reached the human Doctor, having already shaken the Time Lord’s hand moments ago.

“Got yourself a twin, then?” he asked the Doctor standing in front of him – who honestly did not have the energy to try explaining any of this to anyone at the moment.

“They’re actually the same man,” Donna corrected him.

Wilf turned to look at her. “Cloned himself, did he? I’ve heard all about them clones, you know. First they went for the sheep, next thing you know, they’re cloning celebrities! ”

“_He_ is standing right in front of you, Gramps, they both are. And no, they’re not clones, they’re just…both the Doctor, let’s just leave it at that, all right?”

Wilf merely shrugged before offering the Doctor in blue a grin. “Twice as wonderful, then!”

The Doctor did not feel _that_ wonderful, though.

From the way Wilf’s smile was already turning into a worried frown as he peered at him, the old man was figuring that out himself.

That’s when Sylvia snapped. “Planets in the sky are one thing, but ugly blue boxes in my living room are another one altogether! Will someone _please_ get it out of here? It’s dripping water all over the carpet!”

Despite his discomfort, the Doctor couldn’t help but scowl at the unfair jibe towards his ship.

“Now see – ” his counterpart quickly tried, sounding equally offended, but Sylvia quickly cut him off.

Her next few remarks were quite reminiscent of Jackie on a good day.

In the end, his original self caved, as he always did with mothers, stepping back in to go park her outside.

“Who wants breakfast!” Wilf offered the moment the ship finished dematerialising, leaving a large wet spot on the carpet.

“Dad!”

“What? They need sustenance, saving planets and universes! Look at that one, he looks just about to keel over!”

Now holding on to the back of an armchair for support, the Doctor did feel like it, too, to be perfectly honest. Not that he thought he could manage to swallow any kind of food without throwing it straight back up.

His brain being all kind of…hazy, he didn’t really notice that all three Nobles had moved to the kitchen, still bickering loudly as they did, leaving him and Rose alone in the living room. The Doctor didn’t move, still clinging to the armchair to keep himself upright.

“If I ask you something, can you be honest with me?”

He reopened his eyes, not even aware until now that he’d closed them, looking back at Rose, who stood a few metres away from him, her posture defensive, yet undeniably concerned.

Not trusting himself to be able to speak much, he nodded, once.

“Something’s going on with you,” she stated. “The other Doctor, he says you’ll be all right once you’ve had some real sleep. Is he lying to me?”

Even as he stared at her, a shudder went through his entire body; his limbs were unbearably heavy, now, the pounding in his head having morphed into a continuous ache, and everything he looked at had an odd…unfocused quality to it, caused by more than his lack of glasses.

“He’s not lying,” he replied in a hoarse voice with a sloppy shake of his head. “My brain’s struggling with the excess of memories I took in, on top of the ones I gained by just being…” _Part Donna_, he didn’t say. “My brain’s part human, now, which means it needs sleep to sort through the memories. To tidy itself up. Reset itself.”

“Then you need to _sleep_,” Rose told him, or rather commanded.

He shook his head again, more in frustration than anything else. “I’ve tried,” he admitted, miserable. “I can’t. Not…properly.”

She was silent for a couple of seconds.

“What about drugs? To help you stay asleep?”

Another sloppy shake of the head. “That’d be unwise. I don’t know enough about my physiology. It could make things worse.”

She fixed him with a look that made his heart ache again, her concern evident in the crease of her forehead. She opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a knock on the front door.

“I’ll get it, I’ll get it!” Wilf exclaimed from the kitchen, quickly shuffling towards the entrance, soon letting in a Doctor who was, once again, _slightly_ drenched. “How d’you like your eggs?”

The next few minutes were a bit of a blur to the Doctor, not quite sure how he’d ended up sitting at the dining room table between Wilf and Donna. There were two fried eggs on his plate, along with a large piece of bacon, which made it look like some kind of deranged, grinning face.

The smells alone were enough to make him mainly focus on not adding _more_ to his plate.

At his side, Wilf was talking up a storm. It took the Doctor a sluggish few seconds to catch up on what he was saying; he’d started retelling the previous day’s events from his point of view, as a human stuck on Earth, admitting that he’d found the sight of the planets in the sky rather ‘majestic’.

“And that girl, right here!” he pointed at Rose, who was sitting across the Doctor on the other side of the table. She didn’t look that hungry herself, too busy watching him, from the looks of it. “Should have seen her. Absolutely amazing, she was. Appeared out of thin air, just as we was about to get fried by these big ‘EXTERMINATE!’ aliens. Blew the whole thing to pieces, she did!”

The Doctor’s heart, which had not been exactly sluggish in his chest, gained even more speed, creating a heavy thumping in his head, the room losing even more consistency.

“None of it would have happened in the first place if you hadn’t nagged that thing!” Sylvia intervened. “Why don’t you tell your new friends how exactly you tried fighting back?”

“Look, it only had the one eyestalk thingy. Splatting paint all over it could have worked.”

“Except it didn’t and it tried zapping us instead!”

The next time the Doctor breathed in, the smell of bacon, tea and coffee was replaced by the acerbic smell of fire, while screams erupted in the street right outside the windows.

Screams, mixed with loud, synthetic commands.

In that one second, the Doctor became convinced that Daleks were about to blow up the side of the house, come in and kill them all.

He did not _consciously_ jump out of his seat in response to this incoming threat, stumbling back up in panic, the chair falling over with a loud _SNAP_, which did nothing to calm him.

Donna reacted faster than anyone else, up at his side almost at once, trying to keep him upright as his legs gave out under him; he felt hot, and he felt cold.

Most of all he felt like he was burning, just burning up, as if he was about to burst into beams of regenerative energy again, but he couldn’t, he _couldn’t_, he was too close to them, he was going to kill them all.

_KILL THEM ALL KILL THEM ALL KILL THEM ALL_

He could not say he was properly aware of the commotion that followed this impromptu episode of his, having half-fainted by then; that was probably for the best, considering how he _really_ felt like trashing, unable to stand the feel of their hands on him, but he simply didn’t have the energy for it.

What brought him back to himself was an odd nudging sensation in his mind, a sensation that was both familiar yet intrusive, realising what it meant just as he became aware of the _fingers_ on his face.

“_No,_” he nearly growled as he swatted at the hand.

Hard.

“I’m trying to help you, you idiot!”

“Oi!” He heard Donna’s trademark shout. “Stop insulting yourself you dunce!”

“Well maybe if he _stopped_ acting like an idiot I wouldn’t feel the urge to call him an idiot!”

“Shut up!”

Rose’s voice did shut them up, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was a low, whimpering noise.

…until he realised he was the one making it, which was enough to put an end to it.

He seemed to be lying on his back, on a couch, or maybe a bed, both hands up to his face, the heel of his palms pressed hard to his feverish eyes.

“Doctor?”

Rose’s voice was much softer this time, closer too; the hand he soon felt resting on his had to be hers. When he didn’t flinch at her touch, she tightened her hold, and for the first time in a while, he began to feel grounded.

“I don’t want him in my head,” he whispered.

Somewhere a bit further, he heard the start of a sentence, which was quickly shushed, followed by a ‘_umph!’_ noise, as if someone had just been jabbed in the ribs.

“What do you need?” Rose asked him, her voice still blissfully low and quiet. “How can we help?”

He wanted to tell her that this, _her_, was helping.

All he managed was a wobbly inhale, and an even wobblier exhale.

She gave his fingers a squeeze, before she released them altogether, and he wanted to scream, the pain in his throat worsening.

She was talking, further away in the room, too quietly for him to be able to make out the words, not with his heart still pounding in his head.

And then, there was silence, except for the _woosh woosh_ of his blood rushing against his ears, and maybe the sound of a door being closed.

He finally let his hands fall from his face when there was a dip in the surface he was lying on – definitely a bed, watching as Rose sat next to him over the covers. She reached for him, resting her hand on his cheek, her palm much cooler than his skin.

“You need to sleep,” she whispered, her fingertips gently scratching his sideburn.

He shook his head, swallowing hard. “I don’t think I can…” he managed to articulate, his voice too low, too thick.

He wished he could tell her how it felt, to be thrown back into terrors every time he dozed off.

“Let’s just try, yeah?” she encouraged him softly. “I’ll stay right here, with you.”

He couldn’t _possibly_ talk, then, his throat clenched with everything he couldn’t say.

She moved, which confused him at first, too distressed by the loss of her touch, until he understood that she was taking off his shoes, hearing their _clunk_ as they fell to the floor. When she came back to him, she grabbed his hands.

“Can you sit up?”

He did sit up, with her help, passed being too proud to be embarrassed about his lethargy. He let her take his jacket off, too, most of his remaining concentration directed toward staying somewhat upright, while the rest of it was used just…watching her.

He shuddered at the cooler air, the absence of his jacket making him realise just how damp his shirt had become. His body tried redirecting what was left of his energy towards warming itself up, making him feel faint again, but he forced himself to keep his eyes on her, to focus on the feel of her hands, now working on loosening his tie.

There was something so…_Rose_ about the way she was handling him, so gentle and kind, even when one of the very last interactions they’d had together had ended with him making some unkind snide remark.

The words kind of…slipped out.

“I love you.”

Kind of sloppily, too.

Still. They were genuine enough.

Her fingers froze on his tie, understandingly so. When she raised her eyes to meet his hazy gaze, they looked a bit misty.

“Sorry,” he said with a bit of a grimace; if he’d been more _with_ _it_, he probably would have been blushing. But his cluttered brain would have none of it, his mouth opening again, more slurred words spilling out. “Actually, nah. Not sorry at all. Well, maybe a bit for just blurting it out like that when I’m half-delirious and all sweaty, because it makes it sound like it’s not true, when it is. True, I mean. The loving you part, not the sweaty part. Well, I suppose the sweaty part’s true too. This body’s so sweaty, Rose. No matter what I do it just – ”

Her fingers had come up to that unstoppable mouth of his, interrupting his babbling. She was leaning forwards, then, her fingers falling away, replaced by the soft press of her lips.

She lingered, and for once, the Doctor didn’t mind having lost his awareness of time.

“You need to sleep,” she murmured again, against his lips this time, her palm blissfully cool upon his jaw.

When he moved to lie back down, she followed, opening up her arms in a silent invitation. He burrowed himself in her embrace, until his face was nestled against her collarbone, his arms tightly wrapped around her.

He breathed in the smell of her, letting the feel of her fingers in his hair soothe him, her other hand slowly rubbing his back, over and over again.

“Sleep…” she whispered in his ear.

Cocooned in the softness of her, the Doctor did.

…

The Doctor slept, but he did not sleep well.

Not at first.

Very little time had passed after she’d felt his breathing deepening when he’d tensed in her arms; the trembling, which had almost completely faded as he borrowed some of her warmth, had come back with a fury. Before long, he was whimpering, the sound of his distress muffled in her shirt, his hair becoming damp with perspiration again. Rose couldn’t see his face, but she easily pictured the grimace that had to be distorting his traits as he dreamed – and dreamed badly.

She’d moved, until her lips were closer to his ear, shushing him with a stream of soft noises and whispered reassurances, using her hands as much as possible upon his tensed muscles.

It always worked, eventually, his body relaxing in her arms again.

For a few minutes, anyway.

Rose had no idea how much time went by; she lost track of how many times she had to soothe him back into a gentler sleep.

At some point, his slumber deepened at last, as he finally entered a dreamless, more restful phase of his sleep cycle; for the first time since he’d snuggled into her arms, his body became properly heavy against hers.

She continued caressing his hair for quite some time after that, until even that small touch slowed down, her fingers merely flexing and curling through soft strands, slower…and slower…

Her transition from sleep back into awareness was just as seamless.

Having spent the last few weeks falling asleep in the most random of places in between interdimensional jumps, she was confused at first, never quite sure of where she was. She didn’t feel her usual urge to wake up, and to wake up _fast_, though.

She felt…safe.

And warm.

Almost too warm, but that was one sensation she didn’t mind at all, her mind having reconnected quickly, remembering where she was – and with whom. Still, she kept her eyes closed, listening to the soft pitter-patter of the rain against the window, taking in the feel of _him_, wrapped around her.

They’d moved as they slept, so that she was now the one mostly nestled in his arms, with her back pressed to his front, their bodies curled together. She could feel the weight of his leg between hers, having found his hand in her sleep, which she’d cradled close to her, their fingers loosely intertwined.

The more she focused, the more sounds she heard. Beyond the rain falling outside, there were…noises, further away in the house, distant…downstairs, she guessed; people were talking out there, their voices muffled, although one of them was hard to dismiss – Donna’s.

They felt a universe away.

Rose eventually opened an eye, then two, before closing them again. The light had been dim when she’d laid down with him, the sky outside thick with storm clouds; it was barely darker now, but it was enough to let her know it was much later in the day, although not quite night, yet.

She truly didn’t have any desire to move, or to put an end to this quiet interlude, not as long as she could help it. This felt like her first real moment of _downtime_ in…too long for her to remember. And who was she kidding?

Why would she consciously want to extract herself from the safety of his arms, especially when he needed this even more than she did?

Her mind drifted, once again trying to process everything that had happened these last few days, or even these last twelve hours. Warmth spread through her chest at the memory of this Doctor’s words, which had been as unexpected as the soft clumsiness he’d said them with.

_I love you_.

She’d suspected it, obviously, especially after being privy to some of the other Doctor’s mind and emotions, but the lack of verbal acknowledgement and reciprocity had taken their toll on her, and fed into her doubts and insecurities, making her a lot more reluctant to say the words out loud herself these days.

For the umpteenth time since she’d joined them back on the TARDIS, she found herself baffled by just how similar yet different both these men were. Right now, her very being was filled with nothing but deep, aching affection for her more human Doctor and his vulnerability, for the way he was so much keener to open up to her and let her in.

Yet her heart ached just as much for her other Doctor.

Three times, now, he’d seeped into her mind, or shared pieces of himself with her. The way he opened up might be different, but what she’d felt outside in the rain only hours ago had been just as sincere, just as tangible. He’d been just as vulnerable.

She’d felt his fears and his pain as much as she’d felt his fragile hope, along with that _longing_ as he allowed himself to let his guard down, if only briefly…so that when he’d retreated (quickly, always too quickly), she hadn’t felt disheartened.

She’d felt…_seen_. Just as she felt with this Doctor, curled around her.

Which brought her back to the same, perpetual dilemma.

Two Doctors, one Rose.

The thought brought forth the hazy memory of the two of them, working together to take off her clothes, remembering how ridiculously responsive she’d been to their touch.

And how absolutely _not_ put off she’d been by it.

But that was…absurd.

Absurd and unthinkable. Even if she allowed herself to fantasize a little – because she was only human, and a rather frustrated one at that – neither of them would ever agree to that kind of nonsense, even to the slightly less ridiculous scenario in which they’d…take turn.

Or…would they?

Too lost in these rather complicated thoughts, Rose did not notice that the one Doctor she was very much pinned against wasn’t asleep anymore; some part of her subconscious must have picked up on the changes in his breathing, though, because she wasn’t that surprise when she caught up with him.

She caught up even faster when she felt him breathing in more deeply than he had in a while, a proper, lungs-full-to-the-brim kind of inhale. His exhale, obviously, was consequently much longer.

Stronger, too.

While she’d been used to the soft, steady stream of air he’d been breathing out into her hair, _this_ exhale caused warm air to pool against her nape. Her recent musings must have affected her more than she’d realised, because the feel of his breath immediately set off an avalanche of shivers that rushed down the entire length of her, from the back of her neck, all the way to her toes, feeling just how flushed her face had become.

The Doctor’s breath stuttered a bit on his next inhale, having obviously felt her reaction…which he successfully reproduced the next time he breathed out, more shivers prickling beneath every inch of her skin.

That was all it took for their embrace to shift from something cosy and lazy, to something _heavy_.

Suddenly, she couldn’t get him close enough.

He was already quite close, though, with so many of their limbs locked together, most of his long body pinned to hers. Still, she tried, her grip on his fingers not so loose anymore as she tightened her hold on them and wordlessly demanded _more_, until he was gathering her closer to him.

His breath moved, from her nape to the curve of her neck, no longer quiet either, his every exhale loud and warm upon her skin, as his arm pinned her tighter and tighter to his chest, as if trying to mould the very shape of her into his body. Soon, she was arching into him, seeking more, needing more; her movements combined with the tight hold of his arm around her caused inevitable friction, which she repeated, slowly but with growing intent.

Her next exhale was closer to a rasp when she felt the hardening feel of him against her, heat pooling deep inside of her, all the while coming out of her skin in waves; she made some changes, focusing the pressure on this aching part of him, causing his entire body to tense behind hers. When she repeated the sway of her hips, he met her move for move, grinding against her as he let out a muffled groan against her neck.

She let go of his hand and reached back, sinking her fingers in his hair as she had so many times in recent hours…but there was nothing soothing about the way she clenched at it now, using her grip as leverage to put more momentum into her next sway, and the sound of his next moan reverberated through her.

The Doctor was not delusional enough to think that he would _ever_ win against this human body of his, in a situation such as this one, where everything was heat, intoxicating smells and increasingly potent pangs of pleasure that felt so intense they almost hurt.

Still, he did try maintaining at least an ounce of self-control.

There was only so much a man could take when the woman he loved seemed determined on fusing every inch of her to him, though, layers of clothes be damned, until he was _craving _the feel and taste of her.

His mind still being kind of a mess, not to mention the lack of blood in his brain, he had no clear recollection of flipping them over to lodge himself between her legs, pressing her down into the mattress with his full weight, yet here they were, with her legs already encased around him. Her arms entrapped him just as tightly, while he slipped one of his around her waist to gather her to him once more, seeking her lips and everything else she was willing to give.

She opened up to him at once, responding to the needy caress of his tongue with a small groan, which he swiftly turned into something deeper and longer by resuming the sway of his hips, this new position creating a different kind of friction, one that caused her to bite down on his lower lip as that beautiful long sound came out of her.

There was another sound, far in the distance, way outside the bubble of sizzling lust they were trapped in, yet it was distinct enough to cause them both to freeze, Donna’s laughter managing to reach them through space and at least one closed door, soon followed by more distant, muffled voices.

When the Doctor opened his eyes, forced to take in his surroundings for the first time since he’d woken up, he could have focused on the human beneath him, whose fingers were still curled in his hair, and whose breath was burning his tingling lips every time she exhaled.

He didn’t.

For some bizarre reason, his gaze stopped on the nightstand, right next to her head. It stopped on _Babar_, specifically, a plush toy in the shape of an elephant, one that had been in this room for decades, for sentimentality reasons more than anything else. And as he squinted through dim light to stare at the blurry shape of the elephant, several things dawned on him.

They were in Donna’s house. In Donna’s room.

On Donna’s _bed_, while she and her family were only one floor down, from the sound of it.

Not only was he on Donna’s bed, well on his way to climax even with him still wearing most of his clothes, there also was enough of Donna herself in his head for him to know exactly how long _Babar_ had been in this room, or how her dad had gotten it for her using a claw machine, thirty-seven years ago.

Pouring a bucket of ice cold water on top of him would have been just as efficient, the bubble nothing short of bursting as his aching arousal was replaced by stifling anxiety and a wave of nausea.

As he lost his grip with himself, unable to know who he was, not anymore, he lost the ability to breathe again.

Rose let him go as soon as he made to move off her, having obviously noticed his drastic change of mood, soon finding himself sitting on the edge of the bed, clinging to the sheet on each side of him as he forced himself to breathe slowly through his nose.

There was some movement behind him as she shuffled on the bed. Away from him, not closer; he was grateful for it, needing all the space he could use right now.

It…passed.

Faster than it had at any point in recent history; he supposed sleeping _did _help. He wouldn’t say that he felt completely refreshed and rejuvenated, on a mere physical level, but despite his current predicament and tendency to panic, he felt much better than he did a few hours ago.

He was still sore, but if anything else, his throbbing headache was gone, and his limbs didn’t feel like dead weights anymore.

All of it thanks to _her_. And here he was, making a fool of himself.

Which was why he was a tad surprised by the first thing she said:

“I’m sorry.”

He looked at her over his shoulder with a genuine frown.

She’d sat up against the headboard, her legs up and close to her, arms folded across her chest; the way she held herself felt…defensive more than guarded. Even in the dimming light, the flush on her cheeks was noticeable, her hair quite tousled from the way he’d been holding on to it a couple minutes ago.

Yet the main look on her face was…guilt.

Before he could ask the question to go along with his frown, she spoke again.

“I didn’t think. I know you’re not feeling well,” she said quietly. “That was selfish of me.”

He was almost scowling now. It was all a tad fuzzy in his mind, but he was fairly certain that she hadn’t initiated this any more than he did.

And he most definitely had not minded any of it at all.

“Nonsense,” he said, in a ghost of his sing-song voice. “I believe it’s safe to say we were both equally…enthusiastic.” When one of her hands sneaked up to her lips to nibble on her thumbnail, he continued: “You didn’t do anything wrong, Rose. But I’m still having these weird…dissociative moments. That’s all it was.”

Even though his bout of anxiety had effectively ruined the mood and caused his body to calm itself down faster than anything else since he’d woken up part-human, he already felt the growing urge to go back to her.

To sink his hand into her hair again, and press her to the headboard…to taste her lips and swallow her breath…to kiss her neck, and her breasts, and her –

“’m sorry about last night, too,” she spoke again, putting an abrupt end to his fantasy, properly refocusing on her, tamed by the aching sincerity in her voice. “Back in the infirmary, when I…” She shook her head, leaning her cheek into the palm of her hand as she huddled closer to the headboard. “I got upset, didn’t mean to just leave you like that. I’m just…very confused.”

There wasn’t much light left in the room, but her distress was evident enough, in both her voice and the way she was almost folding into herself.

He decided to listen this time, instead of making it all about him – although, ironically enough, he knew this undoubtedly _was_ all about him and his counterpart.

“Yes, I imagine you would be,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Quite the tricky situation, eh?”

“Yeah…” She was chewing on her bottom lip, now. “It’d be a lot easier if you weren’t so much like him. But you are.”

He knew _what _she meant, and how she meant it; semantics were particularly difficult to navigate in this tricky situation indeed, and he couldn’t blame her for struggling to properly express her confusion over the two of them being so similar.

Still, her words did not sit well with him, causing a cold wave to wash through his insides.

He wasn’t just ‘like’ him.

He _was_ him.

Lost in her contemplation, Rose didn’t seem to notice his reaction to her words.

“I could go.”

_This_ got her attention.

Her hand dropped from her face as she straightened up a little, her face slack with shock. “What?” she breathed out.

He swallowed passed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to look and sound more composed than he felt. “I’m not trying to be a martyr. I’d rather not go at all. But the truth of it is…two of us really is one too many.”

He saw the tears that gathered in her eyes as she curled a bit more into herself again, a hand back to her face, her cheek pressed to her closed fist. “Where would you even go?” she asked in a whisper.

Not exactly the response he would have liked, but that was beyond the point.

“No idea.” He shrugged, feigning a nonchalance he was far from feeling, fighting with the growing emptiness in his guts. “The universe’s a big place. So is time. It’s all rather infinite, really. I’m sure I could find a place where I’m…needed.”

Her face constricted slightly at these words, causing a couple of tears to roll down her cheeks. She quickly used her hand to wipe them off, but anguish was rolling out of her in waves.

“Then you should stay,” she told him, her voice thick with tears. “On the TARDIS.” When he merely stared at her, she nibbled on her lip, before adding, even more quietly: “With me.”

I_ need you_, is what he chose to hear.

His heart was beating way too fast again, but at least it wasn’t caused by anxiety this time, or by lust.

This was…hope.

“That’ll mean two of us, still,” he reminded her. “On the TARDIS. Both of us quite fond of you, Rose Tyler.”

“I know.”

“And, not to be that person, but you seem to be rather…ah, fond of him, too.”

“Well…yeah.”

“But you’re also…fond of me?”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other through the darkness.

“Is that all right?” she asked in a breath.

He considered his words carefully.

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would be so much simpler if they could actually communicate like normal people.
> 
> Your feedback remains my one and only drug. I mean, feedback is very nice. I love to hear from you ♥


	15. One Too Many

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone makes a decision.

**Chapter Fifteen – One Too Many**

There’d always been something charming about Earth.

After spending centuries traveling from one corner of the universe to the other, he’d seen more worlds than he’d lived years. Yet Earth had always been…special. And that was without even mentioning the people that inhabited it

On a mere aesthetic level, that little blue planet was nothing short of magnificent.

It’d been a while since the Doctor had done this. Sat at the entrance of his TARDIS, with his legs dangling into space, and simply _watched_ the quiet beauty of the slowly rotating sphere below.

He’d not even toggled the time knob at all, taking his ship straight up, about five-hundred kilometres from the ground. Night was creeping over Europe, daylight separated from darkness in one curvy line – although the constellation of lights that peppered the planet’s surface could not really be defined as ‘darkness’, so many of them piercing through the storm clouds still gathered all around the globe. The edge of that line was just now reaching the East coast of England; night would soon be falling over London.

The Doctor wondered if all the way down in Chiswick, Rose and this other _him_ were still sleeping, entangled together on Donna’s bed.

Not that he’d seen it himself – Donna would have smacked him before he could even try taking a peek. It didn’t take his genius brain to know that’s exactly what they were doing, though. Cuddling. They’d been up there for so long by the time he’d left the house, they _had _to be sleeping. And there was no way ‘sleep’ would have happened without some proper snuggling.

The other man had been _distressed_. He could not think of a universe in which Rose Tyler would not offer him warmth and comfort.

The envy that pulled heavily on both his hearts was becoming a tad too familiar. He knew it wasn’t rational, but he couldn’t help it. Even as someone for whom physicality wasn’t innate, he’d held Rose in his arms enough times to remember the feel of it.

The feel of her.

He never thought he would someday become this dependent on _touch_, almost addicted to the shape of this one human girl pressed against his own, always craving the squeeze of her fingers in his.

It’d been a rather unusual behaviour for a Time Lord, one that had become even more exacerbated after regenerating in this body – which, for all intents and purposes, seemed to have been fashioned for her and her alone. He could only imagine what having proper _human_ hormones was doing to this particular body.

Not that it mattered. It was what she deserved.

A human partner.

Not simply because a human partner would be more compatible, on a mere physical level; she deserved someone who would _age_ with her, instead of someone with a superior metabolism who would appear trapped in perpetual youth while she slowly decayed.

He could just…do it. Walk back to the console, and enter a new sequence. Take his ship far and away from Earth. Leave them both be.

They would hate him for it, oh yes. They’d shake their fists at the sky and curse his chosen name.

But they’d settle down, eventually.

They’d move on, get a job, and a house and a mortgage, maybe even a dog.

Maybe even children.

They’d live that human life he’d imagined the two of them having from the moment he became aware of this other’s existence.

The universe in which it ended up happening didn’t matter much.

“We’re not even out of the atmosphere, are we?”

Of course, taking off like that would also imply kidnapping Donna’s grandfather.

While the Doctor didn’t think Wilf would _mind_ spending the rest of his human years travelling with him, Donna might.

That thought was scary enough in itself to put an end to his latest bout of gloomy musings.

He turned his head to look at the old man, sitting just as he was, dangling feet and all. His gaze was fixed on the planet below, his eyes brimming with tears.

The Doctor had been all set to go back to his ship, who was in need of some ‘important maintenance’, when Donna had caught him on his way out.

“Would you just…take him with you?” she’d asked, tilting her head towards her grandfather, who was having yet another heated discussion with Sylvia further in the room. “Take the TARDIS above Earth for a bit, let him have a look? He’d never ask, but it would mean so much to him. He’s spent most of his life looking up at those stars. Sometimes I think it’s unfair, how I’m the one who gets to see them all, while he’s stuck down here with a cheap telescope.”

Generally speaking, there was very little the Doctor could refuse Donna.

He was even more pathetic when she turned on the _empathy_ and appealed to his better nature.

The look on Wilf’s face when the Doctor asked him if he felt up for a trip on his spaceship was worth it, reminding him why he so often surrounded himself with human companions.

The person sitting next to him might be an old man, all he saw was the young boy in his eyes as he watched his home planet rotating, so full of wonder and awe. It was like looking in a mirror…a mirror in which his reflection had been flipped.

He himself very much felt like the old man that he was, trapped in a young man’s body.

“Nope, still in the atmosphere,” the Doctor eventually confirmed. “We’re in the exosphere. Last layer of it before outer space.”

He could easily have rambled for a few minutes on that statement alone, _especially_ about how the exosphere extended ten thousand kilometres above the Earth’s surface, which meant they were still quite a distance away from real space.

He didn’t feel like babbling, though.

“Rough couple of days, I take it,” Wilf said more than he asked, in the kind of quiet, caring voice that reminded him of Donna.

The Doctor refocused on the old man sitting at his side; he’d stopped looking at the view to give him his full attention.

“You could say that,” he said, evasive.

“That other you down there,” Wilf continued, pointing towards England. “He sure seems to be having a rough time of it. Must’ve seen some hard stuff.”

The Doctor inhaled sharply through his nose, averting his eyes as his whole frame tensed up. “No more than I have,” he heard himself saying, _despising_ how pedantic and childish he sounded. “Same experiences, different body,” he continued. “I suppose he’s just…weaker. Not as resilient.”

“That’s a funny word to use.”

He glanced back at Wilf, who gave a bit of a shrug.

“Don’t think trauma’s got anything to do with resilience, if you ask me,” he said. “Or not in the way you mean. I’ve seen too many of my mates deal with it, after the war. Nasty business, that was. I didn’t have it as bad as most of them, and it still rattled my brain for a while.” He shook his head, his eyes lost on the planet. “Takes a lot of guts, to keep going.” He looked back at the Doctor. “Not dismissing what you went through either, ‘cause it had to be bad, just by the look of _his_ reactions. But I’ve noticed you don’t speak very nicely to him, or about him.”

The Doctor couldn’t say anything to that, merely clenching his jaw.

“Aren’t you both the same bloke?”

“What’s your point, Wilfred?” he _nearly_ snarled.

Wilf didn’t seem that bothered by his temper, shrugging again. “Not much of a point at all. It makes me sad, is all. It takes a certain kind of self-loathing, to be this negative towards yourself.”

There was a heavy pause.

“O’ course, having a lady stuck in the middle can’t be helping.”

The Doctor’s head nearly snapped when he turned to look at Wilf, unable not to scowl.

“Oh please,” Wilf said, waving a hand. “I might be old, I’m not senile yet. Should have seen her, when she was looking for Donna, the other day. She was really just looking for you. Saw the whole video call thing on the computer, too. She just about kissed the screen when your face finally popped up.”

If the Doctor hadn’t been able to regulate where blood flowed in his body, he would have blushed. The grimace he couldn’t help making seemed to be telling enough, though, judging by Wilf’s smile.

“Oh, I’m just taking the mick,” he said. “S’not my business at all, whatever’s going on between all of you. Looks complicated, though.”

Wilf wasn’t even prodding, nothing like his granddaughter, who loved to nag and nag and _nag_ until the Doctor gave up. And yet he felt compelled to be honest with this kind human, who reminded him so much of his best friend.

“I’m the one making it complicated,” he said in a low voice, not looking at Wilf anymore.

“Brave of you to admit it.”

The Doctor let out a small scoff; down below, London was now in darkness, too.

“This has nothing to do with bravery,” he spoke more to himself than to Wilf. “To be perfectly honest, I’ve always been a coward in that regard.”

_In regards to Rose_, he’d meant to say, definitely too cowardly to even say this properly. Too cowardly to tell her he loved her when she wore her heart on her sleeve for him. Too cowardly to let himself have her for more than a few minutes at a time, his fears always winning over whatever hope she breathed back into him.

“Permission to speak freely?”

He glanced at Wilf, smirking a little tiredly. “Granted.”

“Sometimes there’s nothing wrong with being a coward,” he said. “I was never brave enough to kill anyone during the war, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. When it comes to heart stuff, though…in my experience, it’s always worth the risk.” He took a long, wobbly breath, his gaze back on Earth, his eyes once again shining with tears. “Was in love most of my life, you see. It’s been almost six years since I’ve lost my Eileen.

“Still, wouldn’t have had it any other way. Forty-one years, she gave me, when I never thought I’d ever be so lucky to have her at all. Sure didn’t think I deserved her. But she stuck with me ‘til the very end. And I stuck with her, even when it got bad.” He rubbed at his eyes. “That’s what loving someone is, too. Doing things you never thought you’d be brave enough to do, like watching them die.”

He extracted a hankie from his pocket and blew his nose loudly. Once he was done putting it away, he beamed at the Earth below, extending his arms wide in wonder.

“Look at this, Eily!” he exclaimed, before bringing his fingers to his lips, soon blowing a kiss into the cosmos. “I’m a little bit closer to you, sweetheart.”

His hand was on the Doctor’s arm, then, giving him a warm squeeze.

“Thank you,” he said.

The gratitude in both his voice and eyes was enough to make the Doctor’s hearts ache.

…

Trying to casually put their discarded clothes and shoes back on when fifteen minutes ago, they’d been on their way to christening Donna’s bed, was somewhat tricky.

It involved keeping a fair amount of space between them, all the while avoiding eye contact at all cost – something Rose was getting a bit too good at.

Somehow in the last few days, her life seemed to have become this weird, intergalactic soap opera, in which things kept going from hot to cold faster than the Doctor leapt into a sprint after shouting ‘_ALLONS-Y!’_

Even though they’d just had something close to ‘a talk’, Rose couldn’t say it’d cleared the air either. She doubted that this particular ‘air’ would be properly cleared until the _three_ of them had a conversation about the ongoing situation; given how skittish the Time Lord Doctor had been every step of the way, this was bound to be interesting and not stressful at all.

It wasn’t like she herself had any real idea of what she wanted, or needed. At the very least, she’d managed to make this more human Doctor agree to stay on the TARDIS with them.

They’d obviously reached their limit when it came to being vulnerable around one another, though, hence the going back to mostly avoiding each other’s eyes. They carried on keeping a safe distance between them as they walked downstairs, following Donna’s voice, which was loud and perky.

They found her in the kitchen, leaning against a counter, phone up to her ear; she was in the middle of another loud cackle when she spotted them. Her laughter stopped, giving them a quick once-over that immediately led Rose to believe she knew _exactly_ what they’d been up to.

“Sorry, Veena, gotta go, my kids are up. What d’you mean you didn’t know? Three of them! Absolute terrors, can’t get along more than two minutes before they start shouting or crying, drive me completely barmy. Still, you get attached to them. Yeah, okay, talk to you later.”

As soon as she hung up, silence settled in the room.

“Hungry?” Donna eventually asked, coming to their rescue.

“Starving,” the Doctor replied just as Rose breathed out a “Yeah,” which caused Donna’s eyebrow to rise particularly high, while Rose _truly_ avoided everyone’s eyes, her face warming up again.

“Oh, just sit down, you dumbos.”

They did, making sure to sit diagonally from each other while Donna got some things out of the fridge, putting it all down on the table between them, everything they needed to make themselves some sandwiches.

“You look better,” Donna noted after another minute of silence.

Rose glanced at the Doctor, the remark obviously directed his way, watching him add a thick layer of mayo to his bread, In the bright light of the room, she finally saw him properly; he _did_ look significantly better, his skin not as pale as it had been, the circles under his eyes less visible.

Still scruffier than what she was used to, but she suspected this ‘permanently dishevelled’ look was here to stay.

(She didn’t mind it)

“I feel better,” he said…and said no more, slapping ham on top of the mayo, making it clear he did not want to expend on the topic of his well-being.

To both their surprise, Donna didn’t insist.

“Where’s…” Rose began, before losing her nerves, “…everybody?”

Donna was back to leaning against the counter, chewing on a pickle. “The other Doctor took my Gramps for a trip on the TARDIS. My mum kinda lost it, went for tea next door, probably to complain about me.”

She was barely done speaking these words that the backdoor to the kitchen opened, revealing Sylvia, who momentarily froze as she took in the scene.

She started moving again quickly enough, her lips already turning down in a pinched, disapproving line as she closed the door and propped her dripping umbrella against the wall.

“You’re still here,” she stated rather coldly.

Donna let out an audible sigh. “You really don’t have to be this negative.”

“I think I’m allowed to be suspicious,” Sylvia replied, eyeing the Doctor. “Planets in the sky, aliens invading left and right, police boxes that appear out of thin air. All things you’ve known about for months yet didn’t feel you should share with me.”

“Can we not do this now?” Donna asked, uncharacteristically subdued, sounding as weary as she looked. “Please.”

“Why shouldn’t we do this now?” Her mother continued, her tone becoming more and more acerbic. “These people are part of that life of yours, aren’t they? They obviously know more about it than I do.” There was a heavy pause. “It’s not just the fact that you lied to me about where you were, Donna, or about what you were doing. You hopped on a _spaceship_. Choosing the easy way out, running away from your responsibilities, the way you always do.”

Rose, who’d been trying to make herself small as soon as this started – having been part of enough mother/daughter arguments in her life to know it would be pointless to intervened, was shocked enough by Sylvia’s words to change her mind about remaining quiet.

Her own mother may have been aggravating at times, she’d always been supportive of Rose and her choices, no matter how much she complained about her decisions.

Sensing the disapproval coming out of Sylvia in waves, and seeing the effect it had on Donna, was enough to get her blood boiling, triggering her need to jump in and defend her.

The Doctor beat her to it.

“Why do you do that?”

All eyes turned on him. The Doctor was staring straight at Sylvia, his face set in a cold mask, his eyes as icy as Rose had ever seen them.

“Why do you always put her down?” he asked again.

Sylvia’s mouth opened, then closed, shocked that he would even ask. “I probably shouldn’t be bringing this up in front of you lot, but you don’t know me enough to make that kind of comment.”

“Oh, but I do know you, Sylvia Noble,” the Doctor replied, his voice almost husky now, even as his gaze remained cold and unforgivable. “Didn’t your daughter tell you how I came to be? She’s responsible for my existence, you see. I share some of her genes, and some of her memories, too. Enough of them to know she’s spent most of her life feeling like she would never be good enough for you.”

“Doctor…” Donna tried, but he stopped her by raising a hand, not even looking at her as he did so, still piercing Sylvia with his unrelenting stare.

“What your daughter doesn’t realise, because she doesn’t have the perspective that I have, is what’s at the root of it all. She doesn’t see how scared you are, does she? How disappointed you are in yourself. All these years, never achieving any of these things you once hoped you would achieve. Convincing yourself that your daughter is just as much as a failure as you, putting all that fear and all that blame on her.

“But here is what _you_ don’t see, Sylvia. While you sit here, grieving your lost opportunities and letting the bitterness of it make you sour, your daughter isn’t running away from her responsibilities. She’s running toward them. She’s helping. Everywhere she goes, she helps, bringing the best out of the gruffiest of people. And you wanna know how she does that? She does it just by being kind. The truth is, there are worlds out there, safe in the sky because of her. There are people living in the light, and singing songs of Donna Noble, a million light years away.

“You might fail to see it, but they don’t. We don’t. We see her for who she is, and that’s the most important woman in the whole wide universe. So why don’t you try remembering that, every once in a while?”

There was silence at the end of his tirade, the kind of silence that felt almost tangible.

Rose wasn’t exactly surprised when Sylvia left the room, while Donna tried to hide the fact that she may have shed a couple of tears – not that she could blame her. Her own heart ached, at both the Doctor’s words, and at the deep affection she felt for him in that moment.

For his part, his reaction was to shove half his sandwich in his mouth.

“That was…” Donna tried, her voice a bit hoarse.

“Sappy?” the Doctor offered through his mouthful of bread, ham and mayo.

“So…_sappy_,” Donna confirmed, but she was walking to where he sat, then, soon encircling his shoulders and squeezing him to her, before pressing a resonating kiss to his temple. “Thank you.”

They both froze at the sound of Rose sniffling across the table.

“It wasn’t _that_ sappy,” the Doctor said, at a bit of a loss.

Rose shook her head, opening her mouth to try explaining herself, but that was pointless. She found herself snivelling some more, wiping her face with her sleeve, unable to do anything about it.

She was overwhelmed, emotional and confused at any given point, these days. How could she possibly explain that her sudden excess of emotions wasn’t just caused by the way these two had each other’s back, aware that the other Doctor would have been just as generous in his praises of Donna Noble if he’d been here to defend her.

How could she explain that _this_ made her think of her mum, too? About how, unlike Sylvia, her mother had always believed in her, and often spoken out on her behalf. How she’d crossed dimensions to come help her.

And now, she would never see her again.

Donna, who would always be more intuitive than any of the Doctors could ever be, didn’t say anything. She released the Doctor and walked to Rose instead, soon offering her the same kind of warm, motherly hug she had given her twin.

The back door opened again, a lot more loudly.

“You’re never gonna believe where I was!” Wilf exclaimed, his hair and face dripping with water, his grin big enough to light up an entire city.

Donna and Wilf immediately engaged in an overexcited talk. Rose watched as the other Doctor walked in, equally wet, even though the TARDIS was only parked a few metres away in the garden, Rose catching a glimpse of it before he closed the door.

When she looked up at him and met his eyes, his face was creased in concern; it took her a moment to remember she’d just been crying. She shook her head with a reassuring smile, even as she went back to wiping her nose.

She tried averting her eyes, but as soon as she looked away, she met the _other_ Doctor’s gaze, who seemed equally concerned, causing her heart to flutter in her chest. Once again, she felt a bit too affected by being the sole focus of their attention.

“All right, the three of you,” Donna said, having just managed to extract herself from her grandfather’s grip. “Why don’t you head back to the TARDIS? I’ll join you in a few minutes, got a couple of things to discuss with my mother. Just wait for me in the control room, will you?”

Surprisingly, none of the Doctors argued.

They all got a good squeeze from Wilf before they left, the old man looking like he would never stop beaming. The walk to the TARDIS was short, and not as wet as Rose had anticipated, the rain having calmed down to a drizzle.

All three of them immediately put themselves away from each other, the Time Lord Doctor pretending to be reading something at the console, while the other Doctor had gone back to leaning again one of the columns, hands deep in his pockets. For her part, Rose had decided to lean against the railing near the jumpseat, her fingers soon tap-tapping the metal.

It was…weird, being in the control room together, just the three of them, without Donna there to act as a buffer. Things felt even more tense when the Doctor who stood at the console ran out of things to ‘read’.

Silence seemed to stretch and stretch, until the Doctor in brown spoke.

“How are you feeling?”

He was looking at his counterpart as he said these words.

Judging by the look on the other man’s face, he was even more shocked than Rose. The question had sounded…_genuine_, too, as if he really wanted to know.

This more human Doctor tried to conceal his surprise – badly, eventually tilting his head, a bit too sharply. “I’m all right,” he announced. “Better than I was.” A pause. “You?”

Rose carried on watching in disbelief as the other Doctor began smirking that small, sardonic smirk. It wasn’t mocking though. It was…self-derisive.

“Oh you know,” he eventually answered. “_Molto bene._”

Rose almost sang some of those praising songs when the door opened up and Donna walked in, eager to let the other woman come put an end to this surreal moment.

But Donna didn’t come up to their level; the way she was walking was oddly…slow. Not the distraction Rose had hoped for, but a distraction nonetheless.

Donna stopped near the lowest level of grating, before taking a long inhale, which sounded a bit wobbly.

“All right, you three,” she said just as she had in the kitchen. “This is where I leave you.”

There was a heavy pause.

“What?”

That one word was, once again, beautifully spoken in perfect synchronicity, in the exact same tone, which made Donna smile.

It was an amused, yet a bit sad kind of smile.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she rolled her eyes a little. “I’m not _leaving_ _you_ leaving you, I’ll be back. I just need to make myself scarce for a while.”

“Why?” the Doctor in brown asked, his brow already set low.

“Because,” Donna began, “the three of you are…a _bloody mess_. And you know it, too.”

Silence.

“As endearing as it’s been, watching you stumble your way around one another or act like lovesick puppies, it’s about time you all just talk. And I don’t think you’re ever gonna do anything about it while I’m here. There really is one too many people on this ship right now, and that person is me.”

“Donna…” Rose tried, because the thought of her convoluted _love life_ forcing Donna out of what had become her home was making her more than a little queasy.

“I’ll be all right,” Donna reassured her with a kind smile. “You take all the time you need to…figure it all out. I don’t really care how long it takes you to come up with an ‘arrangement’, or whatever the cool kids call it these days. I not only do not care, I positively do not want to know. Just…stop pretending one of you is gonna end up leaving, you’re really not fooling anyone. Try _talking_ to each other like actual adults for once, will you?”

She stared at them all in turn, before rolling her eyes again.

“You really don’t have to look at me like this. I knew I was going to stay here today, that’s why I asked to come in the first place. And I really do expect you to come and pick me up as soon as you’ve dealt with things. Let’s say in about…two weeks for me, Earth time. All right?”

There was more silence, until her metacrisis twin spoke.

“You won’t stand being around your mother for that long.”

Donna waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, I think your little speech shut her up for at least a couple of days,” she told him with another kind smile. “I don’t intend on sitting on my arse for two weeks either. I talked to a few of my mates today. Turns out we stopped the reality bomb from going off, but the Daleks still made a real mess of things while they were here. The whole ordeal was quite traumatic for a lot of folks. Many of them need a hand, or just someone to talk to. So that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m going to go out there, and help. Just like you said.”

She spoke these words quietly, staring straight at the Doctor in blue as she did.

All he managed was a hard swallow, before nodding his head, once.

She looked at the other Doctor who, of course, was properly brooding, now.

But he nodded, too.

“Good,” Donna said with a loud, relieved sigh. “You,” she said, pointing at her twin. “Remember what I’ve told you. And you,” she pointed at the Doctor in brown. “Remember what I’ve told you. And _you_,” she pointed at Rose last, before dropping her hand and shrugging a shoulder. “I think your mother said it all before she left.”

Just as unable to speak as the men were, Rose gave a minute nod of her head, already back to nibbling on her thumbnail.

“Two weeks my time,” Donna reminded them, already walking back towards the door. “And make sure you keep Martha’s phone handy. You never know.”

She gave them a wink, before walking through the doors, and out of the TARDIS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed how much I love Donna Noble. I love her so much. But sometimes, idiots do need some alone time to just be idiots together.
> 
> Aaaand sometimes, writers need time to recharge, too. I feel like I’m burning myself out a bit. I’ve been hiding in this story these past few weeks, spending most of my days working on it. And I do it because I love it, obviously, and I still have way too many things in store for them. But I don’t want to reach a point where I don’t want to work on it anymore. Hence me taking a small break.
> 
> Please stay safe, and remember: when in doubt, always be kind ♥


	16. Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna told them to have a talk…but do they ever listen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter finds you well – or even finds you at all, given the trouble with email notifications at the moment. Thank you all so much for your patience, and for your continued support; it means more than you know ♥

**Chapter Sixteen – Truce**

Donna Noble had some _nerves_.

He couldn’t pretend this was a trait of hers he wasn’t aware of; she’d appeared on his TARDIS shouting at him, and she hadn't been in his life thirty minutes that she’d felt bold enough to slap him.

Not that he saw himself as intimidating, but he’d been around for a while now. He was aware that there was a certain air of…_authority_ about him, which usually kept people at a safe distance.

There’d never been any of that with Donna.

In more than one way, she had been exactly what he needed. Someone to stop him when he went too far, and someone who wasn’t afraid to put him back in his place from time to time, keeping his ego in check.

All things that she’d done brilliantly because, boy, did she have the nerves for it. Apparently, this also included making the kind of decision she’d just made without discussing it with him first (something he would _never_ do himself, obviously), forcing them all into a rather uncomfortable situation.

The truth of it was, he was a bit miffed about his best friend leaving the TARDIS.

It was her choice, and only temporary, but that didn’t really make him feel better; technically, only a few days had passed since he almost had to completely erase her mind. There had to be a timeline in which he _had_ done it, and where leaving Donna behind with no memories of their time together had to be a lot harder than this.

Unwilling to let his thoughts wander in that direction, and not entirely convinced that he could keep himself from sprinting after her and ask her back on board, the Doctor quickly refocused on the controls instead.

This also provided him with the perfect distraction, postponing the moment when he would have to acknowledge the other two people in the room, and all these things Donna implied they should start acknowledging.

(The _nerves_ of her)

His metacrisis self had the same idea, joining him on the other side of the console in another moment of eery synchronicity. Consequently, their silent, joined efforts to send the TARDIS back into the Time Vortex meant that this trip was particularly smooth – and swift. Before long this temporary distraction was over, and without the mechanical groans of their dematerialising ship, silence settled once more upon the room.

The Doctor could just make out Rose from the corner of his eye, still standing near the jumpseat, not brave enough to look at her properly.

“I can’t do this.”

Her voice was quiet, tense, and uncertain.

It was the sound of it as much as the words themselves that finally forced him to look up at her as an odd combination of sadness, understanding and resignation twisted his insides. She was leaning against the railing, arms wrapped around herself, the slightly constricted look on her face matching the tone of her voice.

Across from him, his counterpart had looked up, too, and Rose seemed to shrink a little under the weight of their stares.

“The ‘talking thing’ I mean,” Rose quickly clarified. “I just…can’t. Not right now.”

First, there was relief.

An _embarrassing_ amount of relief; they’d not even defined what ‘_this_’ was, yet, but he was glad she wasn’t dismissing it altogether before they could discuss it.

His relief was swiftly replaced by concern, though. She looked apprehensive, almost nervous, which definitely weren’t emotions he ever wanted her to feel in his presence, her gaze now fixed on a point in the distance, her eyes too bright.

“It’s just too much,” she continued with a small shake of her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve only just come back and I – ” She stopped, taking a bit of a wobbly breath. “I know we haven’t really talked about what I’ve done to get back here, even if I’m sure you figured a lot of it out already, but the last few weeks have been kinda…intense for me. And ‘m not even talking about everything that happened on the Crucible, or after. So I…” She briefly stopped again. “I know Donna’s right, and we need to talk. But I…_can’t_ right now.”

She actually looked at each of them in turn, then, her eyes brimming with tears, a sight that caused both the Doctor’s hearts to plummet to the ground, just as it had when he’d stepped into Donna’s kitchen and realised she’d been crying.

No matter how inept he felt about any of this, there was no way he was going to let her carry the full brunt of it– whatever _it_ turned out to be.

“We don’t have to talk now,” he told her, keeping his voice low, and a lot softer than it’d been, recently. “We are in a time machine, after all. I don’t think Donna expected us to resolve anything minutes after she left, to be honest.”

“Nah, she wouldn’t,” the other Doctor concurred. “She probably expects us to spend the next few days avoiding each other, first.”

This earned them a small smile from Rose, even if she’d already averted her eyes again. “We don’t have to avoid each other,” she told them quietly. “I didn’t come all this way to avoid you.”

The pause that followed that statement was _heavy_.

“I do need some time, though,” she continued. “Just to…think. Figure some things out and all that.”

There was another pause.

“Fair enough,” both Doctors spoke together, followed by what was becoming a loud and familiar sigh of self-annoyance.

Rose’s eyes darted back their way, her cheeks a bit flushed. “Would it be bad if I…went and spent some time on my own, just after telling you I wouldn’t avoid you?”

“Well,” the Doctor said with a tilt of his head. “My feelings would be terribly hurt, but I suppose I would eventually have to get over myself.”

“That is asking a lot,” his counterpart confirmed, “but I’m fairly certain we can keep ourselves busy.”

Rose peered at them. “Can you keep yourselves busy without one of you ending up dead?”

When they both tilted their heads again with a similar grimace, this earned them her biggest smile yet. It wasn’t even close to the way she used to beam, something he’d barely seen at all since they’d been reunited, but it was enough to cause his insides to ache.

“We will restrain ourselves from murdering each other,” he eventually told her, a tad sardonically, while his other self nodded in agreement.

Rose nodded, too, smiling almost timidly now, before she pushed herself off the railing, swiftly making her away out of the control room. This may not have been _the Talk_ Donna had in mind, but he decided to see this as progress anyway.

The tension in the room increased exponentially as soon as they were alone with each other, his counterpart doing what he’d done earlier himself, pretending to be reading some information from the console through squinted eyes.

And just as he had earlier, he couldn’t help but notice how much healthier the other man looked already, compared to how he was less than twelve hours ago. His complexion wasn’t as pale, his features were less strained, and the tension that remained in his body was clearly caused by being near him rather than by whatever anxiety he’d been experiencing.

“Stop that,” _he_ eventually spoke, peering at him from his side of the console, still squinting a little too much. “You know how much I like being stared at,” he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The Doctor gave a stiff shrug of his shoulders, as if to say he personally didn’t mind it that much – a blatant lie, as he very much disliked being scrutinised.

“Must have been a good nap,” he found himself saying, matching his sarcasm.

Now he might not be good at reading body language, generally speaking, he still knew himself well enough to note the glaring reaction to his words; not only did his metacrisis self avert his eyes, his face also turned an interesting shade of _pink_, soon raising a hand to the back of his head to ruffle the hair, there.

“It was…decent” he stated vaguely, careful not to look at him. “Sleep seems to have done the trick in letting my brain cope with the excess of memories.”

While sleep had undoubtedly helped his brain reboot itself, the Doctor doubted ‘sleep’ was responsible for the other man’s discomfort.

Confronting him about whatever had been going on between him and Rose these last few days would be pointless, though. No amount of vindictiveness or envy would excuse the kind of hypocrisy that would come with him calling his counterpart out on things he’d done himself.

The Doctor decided to take the high ground, for once, changing the subject altogether.

“Why was she crying?”

That question was enough to make his metacrisis self look back at him. He didn’t need to ask what he was talking about, sharing not only the same mind, but the same memories as well.

“Can’t say for sure,” he answered after another heavy pause, which earned him a disapproving scowl. “She wasn’t even involved in what happened in that kitchen,” he continued. “Sylvia said something unkind to Donna and I…ah, stepped in, put her back in her place a bit. Rose just started crying afterwards.” He swallowed hard, clearly as affected by the memory of it. “I do think she’s feeling overwhelmed with everything that’s happened, and that she hasn’t processed it all, yet.” A pause. “She’s probably grieving the loss of her family, too.”

The ensuing silence stretched for long seconds as both men stood with their hands in their pockets, reflecting on Rose’s state of mind, and on the sacrifices she’d made to be here with them.

“You know what Donna would say,” the Doctor eventually spoke.

His other self smirked a little. “Stop acting like an egotistical arse, you dunce?”

The Doctor’s smirk almost matched his counterpart’s. “And she wouldn’t be wrong. All of this is complicated enough for Rose without us constantly behaving like overgrown children.”

The other Doctor tilted his head. “Are you actually suggesting we drop the pettiness and put her wellbeing first?”

“I suppose I am,” he said, and his counterpart nodded quickly, no smile left on his lips. “What about Noradelea?” He suggested.

The other man nodded again. “I think we could all benefit from a trip there.” He started tweaking some controls on the console, narrowing his eyes too much again. “Twenty-seventh century?”

“It will do,” the Doctor agreed as he extracted his screwdriver from his pocket. “We can head there whenever Rose feels up to it. In the meantime…here.”

His counterpart looked up, just in time to catch the sonic he’d tossed his way.

“Go fix your specs,” he suggested, unable to keep himself from sounding a little condescending. “You look like a squinting idiot.”

The other man stood there for a moment, before giving him a small, mocking salute, soon exiting the room just as Rose had, minutes ago.

Left alone for the first time in a while, the Doctor wondered how long he would be able to keep himself from seeking her out. He realised that doing so when she’d expressed the need to be alone would be…rude, maybe even disrespectful.

But ever since the talk he’d had with Wilfred in this very room, he felt the inexorable urge to be near her – just _her_. It was as if the ground was being swallowed up under his feet, forcing him to acknowledge the inevitability of it all.

_That’s what loving someone is, too. Doing things you never thought you’d be brave enough to do._

His resolve wouldn’t last long.

…

One thing Rose had learned about training her body rigorously was that it also trained her mind to empty itself, as she focused on the task at hand.

That was one of the reasons why she’d taken to this more than she had running, which she’d given up after less than two weeks; while it’d been good at physically tiring her out, running alone had given her too much time to think.

Here in the water, she couldn’t afford to think about anything beside the next stroke of her arm, or the next time she tilted her head to breathe.

She’d also found that the flip turn she had to perform every time she reached one end of the pool somewhat broke the monotony of swimming, as it forced her to stay focused on what she was doing. She’d hit the wall of the Torchwood’s swimming pool a couple of times in her early days, whenever she’d let herself be distracted by her own thoughts. Talk about learning the hard way.

No more wandering thoughts, then.

Only the stroking, the breathing, and the flipping.

The TARDIS had been as compliant as ever when Rose had pressed a hand to one of her walls and asked if she could point the way towards the swimming pool, a room she hadn’t visited since the Doctor had first taken her on a tour. She’d smiled when she first walked in; although the TARDIS had turned the room into a perfectly Earth-like pool complex, down to the heady smell of chorine, the basin looked significantly _bigger_ and longer than the one Rose had been using these last few years.

It took her a few lengths to get used to this pool, but before long, Rose was finding her groove again, setting up a strong rhythm, aware that the intensity of her exercising would make her sore for a couple of days. Three _years_ she’d spent swimming for an hour every day before the sun was even up, but these last few months and weeks had put a stop to her routine.

Life had become too hectic for it, forcing her to get most of her exercising through _running_ again –usually running for her life.

She had no idea how much time had passed when she finally came to a stop, having lost what was left of her stamina, reaching out for the edge of the pool.

“I didn’t know you swam.”

The voice – _his_ voice – surprised her so much that she nearly choked on a mouthful of water – a rookie mistake that was nothing short of embarrassing, given her level and experience. She clang to the edge even tighter as she turned around, finding the Doctor standing at the opposite end of the pool, hands in the pocket of his suit.

The brown one.

“Sorry,” he said with a grimace when she carried on coughing on water.

Forcing herself to breathe more deeply, also hoping that it would calm her pounding heart, Rose brought a hand to her face to clear some of the water from her eyes.

“Didn’t use to,” she admitted. “At least I didn’t back when I travelled with you. I had to take up some form of ‘intensive exercising’ as part of my training. Tried a few things, and that’s the only one that stuck.”

Even with him standing over fifty meters away from her, and with ninety-five percent of her body still submerged in water, she was quite aware of his stare on her.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he spoke again, his voice echoing slightly in the large room. “I just…wanted to check on you.”

Rose didn’t bother asking him how he’d known to find her here; what she could ask the TARDIS with a touch of her hand, _he_ could do just by standing there.

She didn’t usually like being ‘checked upon’ by anyone, but given how rocky things had been between them ever since she’d come back, the fact the _he_’d actively sought her out was quite an improvement.

“t’s okay,” she told him, even as she made to extract herself from the pool. “I ran out of steam, anyway.”

Although her movements were fluid and well-practiced, her body felt particularly heavy as she pulled herself out of the water, most of her limbs trembling a little from exertion.

She was careful not to look his way as she reached for one of the towels the TARDIS had put on a rack for her; he’d seen her in nothing but her undies less than twenty-four hours ago, which meant that he’d seen more than he did now, with her wearing a plain swimming costume. Still, she swiftly wrapped herself in the towel, which she held closed with one hand, the other one twisting water out of her hair as she turned to face him.

He hadn’t moved, still standing almost stoically on the other side of the pool, his expression seemingly unreadable…if not for the way he was staring at her almost unblinkingly.

He seemed to catch himself doing it, finally blinking as he looked away, taking in the rest of the room. “Last time I was in here, it was a lot smaller. No pool either, just an obnoxiously large jacuzzi. All Donna’s idea, obviously.”

“Donna dragged you into a jacuzzi?” Rose teased him, amused at the mental image.

He rewarded her with a kind of scowl that only caused her smile to widen. “I used to drag Donna _out_ of that jacuzzi,” he corrected. “She liked to claim she could happily spend the rest of her life in it, and I don’t think she was exaggerating. She – ” He stopped himself with a small shake of his head, his face back to being unreadable as he looked away. “No matter.”

When Rose started walking slowly around the pool, her movements brought his eyes back on her, and her heart began to speed up again. He was so reserved, these days, even more than he’d been all these years ago, that any tentative venture into his personal space almost felt like a dare she was giving herself.

She couldn’t deny that she found these stark differences between him and his metacrisis self almost…fascinating. While her more human Doctor seemed incapable of keeping his hands off her – something she struggled with in equal measures – _this_ Doctor remained remarkably composed.

Or so it seemed.

He’d allowed her to take enough peeks into his mind to realise that what his counterpart had been able to express through words and touch, this Doctor felt as deeply. Trying to get him to open up was like walking on eggshells, though, but she was oh so very willing to keep on trying, until she figured out what it would take to make him drop his defences again.

No matter how carefully she walked up to him, by the time she was coming to a stop in front of him, he’d become ridiculously tensed again, standing there with his hands deep in his pockets, his every muscle apparently locked into place, back to avoiding her gaze, too.

He’d always been a little too good at pretending to be unaffected, but Rose knew better – in part because she’d been able to _see_ a more vulnerable side of him through his counterpart.

“You okay?” she eventually asked him, quietly and with genuine concern.

He swallowed hard, before giving a short nod of his head, looking back at her. “I should be the one asking you this,” he deflected. “What you said earlier…I’m sorry, for not acknowledging what you’ve gone through before. I imagine it’s probably all a bit…confusing.”

Her face softened at how tentative he sounded; she was unwilling to make this all about her, though. “It’s not a competition, you know,” she reminded him softly. “This is…_weird_, for all of us. You’re allowed to be confused, too.”

His stoic mask cracked, and he nodded again, the gesture even more subdued than before, as he silently admitted to be struggling as much as she was.

Rose briefly wondered if doing this, talking to him, made her a hypocrite, considering she’d denied them all a much needed group conversation less than two hours ago under the pretext that she _couldn’t_ talk.

She didn’t think hypocrisy had anything to do with it, though. After all, she did have quite the sharing session with the other Doctor, already, back in Donna’s room.

This, spending time with each of them individually, felt a lot more intuitive and genuine than any conversation she could force on the three of them. This Doctor definitely seemed a lot less guarded and more willing to open up to her when his counterpart wasn’t there.

Rose noticed the way his focus had shifted to the side of her face, now staring at her jaw. When his gaze travelled down her neck before stopping on her exposed shoulder, she realised he was looking at her new scars, and it was her turn to tense, even as she shivered.

His eyes were somewhat darker when he met her gaze again. “You _do_ realise you shouldn’t have healed this quickly, don’t you?” he asked.

She gave him a look, never appreciating any hint of condescending tone from him. “Well, yeah.”

Once again, she did not say anything else, nor did she ask any question, making it pretty clear she had indeed been aware of this ability of hers.

“How long have you been healing like this?” he did ask in a low voice, and she averted her eyes, folding under the intensity of his stare.

She gave a stiff shrug of her shoulders, her tight fist holding the towel even closer to herself as she shook a little from cold, now, her wet hair continuously dripping water on her skin. “If what you really want to know is if this started before or after I took in the Time Vortex, the answer is after.”

When she met his eyes again, his brow was raised in surprise, as if he truly hadn’t expected her to be this honest, or that perceptive about the whole thing, something she found rather irritating.

“You shouldn’t remember any of that,” was all he could say, sounding as baffled as he looked.

She half-shrugged again. “I didn’t, not for a long time,” she said. “But after our last meeting in Norway, I…” Her voice trailed off, averting her eyes again, her face warming up at the memories of everything she’d done in her desperate attempts to reconnect with him across the void.

In her mind, it had been very clear: if he’d been able to reach out to her in her dreams, well enough to lead her to Bad Wolf Bay, _surely_ it meant that they could do something like this again. All she had to do was focus. Open her mind, so that if the tiniest of crack appeared again, he would be able to get through to her.

“I got into meditation and hypnosis for a while,” she eventually admitted, almost embarrassed at the thought of all these things she’d done for six months, before the Dimension Cannon project became her a new obsession. “Didn’t really do what I was hoping it’d do, but it unlocked some of the stuff I’d repressed. I don’t remember everything that happened on Satellite Five, but I remembered enough to put two and two together. ‘m pretty sure that me suddenly having the ability to heal myself as if I was stuffed with nanogenes’ got something to do with that one time I absorbed pure energy and became a goddess.”

Silence settled between them. When she dared a glance at him, his expression was almost comical. She didn’t find his shock all that amusing, though, already looking away again.

“I know it’s freaky…” she half-mumbled. “I spent the last few years trying not to get injured on duty, ‘cause I knew my co-workers would be a bit too eager to experiment on me.”

She saw him move from the corner of her eye, one of his hands coming up to her face, soon using a finger to gently push her chin up, and she met his eyes again. His shocked expression had vanished, replaced by concern and something…softer.

“‘Freaky’ isn’t the word I’d use,” he told her. “Strange? Yes, no doubt about that. Incredible? A strong contender. But never freaky.”

She could almost hear the thousands of questions that had to be rushing through his mind, now, just as she remembered that there _was_ a way for her to find out what he was thinking and feeling, if he would only let her in.

He’d not initiated any kind of connection between them, though, despite that small contact between their skins, his finger still under her chin.

She decided then to find out if maybe _she_ could.

The way her mind reached out for his was ridiculously clumsy, but her attempt was genuine and focused, meditation having taught her a few tricks.

She didn’t think what she was doing was having any effect at all, until she felt a grip; it was as if he’d just grabbed her wrist – except that he hadn’t, not…physically. And not on her wrist.

It was all very strange indeed, and intangible, yet the sensations felt _real_.

“Don’t,” she heard him say from outside her head, his voice almost gravelly.

She immediately stopped, feeling foolish for having tried at all, only realising now that doing so might not only be rude, but it might be intrusive, too.

“I…sorry,” she breathed out as she physically tried to step away from him.

He moved his hand in response, until he was fully cupping her cheek, keeping her from moving any further away, sending her a warm wave of reassurance through his touch.

“I don’t mind you trying,” he confessed a moment later, his voice still low. “The fact that you can do it at all is – ” He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “But you doing this just makes it…harder.”

Whatever distance she’d tried putting between them was gone, having stepped back fully into his space. “Harder to…what, Doctor?”

Even his breathing seemed louder as he stared into her, and Rose swore she could _feel_ the potential energy crackling from that bond he was keeping himself from opening.

“Harder not to give in,” he admitted in a hoarse voice.

As Rose raised her hand to cover his upon her face, leaning into his touch, it finally dawned on her.

_This_ was his weakness, her way in. Of course it would be both similar yet different from the other Doctor.

In the end, neither of them could keep themselves from putting their hands on her, and that realisation was…encouraging and exhilarating, to say the least.

She’d never been one to back down, but she didn’t want to _force_ him into this either. All she could do was open up her mind as best as she could, hoping that he could feel how much she wanted this.

How much she wanted _him_.

His resolve broke even faster than it had, back in Chicago.

His second hand came up to cup her other cheek as his mind seeped into hers, lowering his barriers down as he did so, letting her feel him just as she had the very first time he’d done this.

She clang to his hand in the hope that it would be enough to keep her upright, once again not entirely aware of her body anymore, struggling to stay tethered to the physical world when she was experiencing something so…ethereal, unfamiliar, and intense. Even through the veil that separated what was happening in her mind from everything outside of it, she felt the strong hold of his hands on her face, confident that even if her legs were to give out, he would keep her from falling.

Although these sensations were still new, her mind was beginning to recognise…_him_, too, the same way she would recognise his features amongst a thousand faces, or the sound of his voice in a crowd of loud people.

It went beyond that, though.

While these physical features made it almost easy to forget the man he used to be, this melding of their minds meant she was bonding with every _him_ he’d ever been, including the leather-wearing man who’d first given her the stars, and she felt his deep-rooted relief at being able to do this, to let her in, and let her experience all of him.

It was overwhelming, no doubt about it, aware that her feeble human mind probably wasn’t designed to connect like this with a _Time Lord_’s, unable not to wonder if telepathy could actually be used in a more…_focused_ manner, or if it would always be this overpowering.

“It can, actually,” he answered her unspoken question.

Although he’d leaned down at some point to rest his forehead against hers, causing these words to be spoken only inches from her lips, they sounded…far away.

“Your mind’s still acclimating,” he explained. “I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable.”

Oh, uncomfortable really wasn’t the word she would use to describe the experience.

Rose swore she felt him smile at her thought, which translated in a warm flash of colour deep inside her mind.

He was retreating then; despite the void he once again left in his wake, she understood that it was for her sake, unwilling to push too far, too fast. Before the last tendrils of his mind released hers, Rose took advantage of this regained awareness of her limbs to push herself up on her toes, emboldened and moved by the strength of the emotions he’d just shared with her, and it was enough to erase that small gap between their lips.

This kiss was soft and lingering, just as it had been in the rain, once again contrasting with the ones she’d shared with the other Doctor – not that she was surprised by these differences. If anything else, being allowed inside his mind was helping her understand what his counterpart had once told her, about this kind of physicality not coming as ‘naturally’ for Time Lords, compared to the very…_physical_ way the part-human Doctor always seemed to react to her.

Lost in the moment, Rose forgot that their connection wasn’t completely severed, and that he was still susceptible to her thoughts…until she felt him tense against her, _possibly_ as a result from getting a glimpse at her memories, in which she was snogging another version of him.

He pulled his face away from hers, enough for their lips to part, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen them, and Rose half-expected him to release her completely, then, before he disappeared to go brood somewhere in the bowels of his ship.

He didn’t

One of his hands moved from her cheek to sink in her wet hair, getting a tighter hold on her as he leaned back down, changing the angle at which his mouth captured hers, his tongue soon gliding across her lower lip in a way she’d _definitely_ experienced before. She responded to his request just as eagerly, having let go of her towel so that she could cling to him, one hand holding on to his jacket as she pressed herself into him, the other one lost in his thick hair.

The similarities stopped there, the Doctor’s mind already sinking back into hers in a much more focused manner indeed, immediately disconnecting her from her physical self again.

She wouldn’t be able to explain what he did, then, but it was warm, and unrelenting…going deeper and _deeper_, until pleasure was pulsing from the very centre of her mind, not entirely aware of the way her nails were digging into his scalp, or how she ended up biting down hard on his lip, her moan half-muffled against his mouth.

It stopped as quickly as it had started, the Doctor having retreated both physically and…else, holding on to her arms to help her stay upright in the aftermath of…whatever that was, honestly unable to qualify what she’d just experienced.

She was very shaky, though.

For his part, he seemed rather calm and unperturbed, if not for his ruffled hair, and his slightly swollen lip…not to mention the wet patches all over the front of his suit, where she’d just pinned herself.

There was a hint of smugness in his eyes, though, and even through her daze, Rose realised that he _might_ have been trying to outmatch his counterpart.

Who was she to complain, really?

“We’d like to take you to Noradelea,” he eventually announced. “Lovely little planet.” He slowly released her arms, as if to test whether or not she could stand on her own – she could…for the most part. “No hurry, though,” he continued. “It’ll be a casual outing. You can just let the TARDIS know when you’re ready to head out, and we’ll meet you in the control room. All good?”

Rose stared up at him, begging her brain to start functioning again, to no avail.

She eventually went for a sloppy nod. “Uh…yeah, that’s…fine,” she breathed out, unable to manage anything else, her teeth chattering a little from cold, now.

She probably looked as pathetic as she sounded, because he bent down, then, collecting the towel she’d dropped earlier, before draping it around her shoulders, and giving her arms a few strong rubs.

The next time he met her eyes, his bravado had dimmed somewhat, his brow back to being creased in concern. “Was that…too much?”

She nearly _laughed_ at the thought – but didn’t. Whatever had happened to cause him to let his guard down like this, she was not about to jeopardise it.

And so she shook her head with a soft smile, although she had regained enough brain functions to decide he deserved a taste of his own medicine, for getting her this worked up within _seconds_, before stopping altogether and acting as if nothing happened.

“Not too much, no,” she reassured him. “‘s a shame I didn’t get to try it on you, though. Maybe next time, yeah?”

Satisfied with the look on his face as he took in the implication of her words, Rose gave him a bit of a tongue-touched smile, soon stepping away, and walking out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could promise weekly updates, but work is picking up again as schools are reopening, so it will really depend on my stress level. Please, continue to keep yourself and your loved ones safe.
> 
> As always, feedback is not mandatory, but it’s deeply appreciated and encouraging ♥


	17. Skipping Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctors take Rose to Noradelea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I hope this chapter finds you well, wherever you are. It truly is a crazy world we live in right now; now more than ever, it is important to remember to be good humans. Just be good humans, guys.
> 
> Talking of good humans and beautiful souls, let me transition smoothly to talk about my best friend’s story, and the fact that you should go read it. She is writing this wonderful (slow burn :p) Rose x Thirteen fic in which the Doctor finds Rose again in Pete’s world, and I am LOVING IT. Here’s the summary:
> 
> “_The Doctor never forgot her. There was never a day that Rose Tyler didn’t cross her mind, even centuries later. When the Doctor begins feeling abnormally strange, painful emotions, she doesn’t expect it to lead her where they do. She finds herself in late 21st century Pete's World where there exists a quasi-immortal Rose Tyler. As she hides her identity, she helps Rose navigate the ghosts in her head, she finds herself falling for her all over again. How does Rose feel about this strange woman? Why does she feel so magnetically drawn to her, as though they are bound to one another, instantly?_”
> 
> LINK: [When the Chaos Calls Me Out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24007936) by [Melusine0811](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melusine0811)

**Chapter Seventeen – Skipping Stones**

The Doctor did a bit more than ‘fix his specs’ while in possession of what still very much felt like _his_ sonic screwdriver.

For one thing, he built himself a new one.

Technically, he could have done so days ago. The truth was, it hadn’t really been front and centre in his mind, except whenever his original self brandished his, which usually happened when they were off the TARDIS; by the time they made it back to the ship, the thought had slipped his mind.

His brand new sonic was nearly identical to the old one – if not for being _better_. Definitely a point he was trying to make to himself more than to anyone else. He couldn’t do anything about getting his right heart back, but if he could give his sonic the ability to resonate _wood_…well, he might as well do it.

Something similar motivated his actions when he stepped out of yet another shower, and dressed in a brown suit.

It didn’t make him feel any more like the Doctor than he already did and had from the moment he’d come to life into this form. There was no epiphany, no great revelation. It felt the way it’d always felt, ever since he decided that _suits_ were the way to go, back on that Christmas day, such a long time ago.

It did, however, cause him to experience a non-negligible amount of uncertainty, more apprehensive about Rose’s reaction to this change than he was about his counterpart’s.

“_You’ve got as much right as him to wear that brown suit,”_ Donna had told him only a few days ago. Rose herself had assured him that this obvious colour distinction wasn’t necessary for her to tell them apart.

It was one thing to speculate about the idea, and another one altogether to put it into practice.

No harm in trying, eh?

After all, the _worst_ thing that could happen would be Rose taking one look at him in that brown suit and declaring he looked even less convincing than a Slitheen trying to pull off a human suit, in which case he would simply go and change back into the blue one, and possibly never come out of this room again – but even _he_ could recognise that the probability of Rose ever being this cruel was somewhat non-existent.

This thought didn’t keep him from feeling a strong rush of apprehension when the TARDIS sounded a low tone through his room, something usually meant for his human companions whenever he wanted them all to meet up in the control room. Something he obviously had never needed himself when his presence was requested, as his sentient ship used to inform him of these things with a simple nudge in his mind.

This reminder of how different he’d become was unpleasant enough to make him want to change right here and there, starting to feel like an impostor again without needing anyone to tell him so.

‘_Don’t be a wimp_,’ Donna’s disapproving voice rang in his head – a memory or an odd manifestation of their metacrisis? It didn’t matter much.

He didn’t change.

When he entered the control room, Rose was alone, back to leaning against the railing near the jumpseat, just as she had earlier. She looked deep in thought, nibbling distractedly on that nail of hers. She also looked more refreshed than he’d seen her at any point these last few days, quite happy to have his specs back just so that he could see her clearly again; he didn’t think he would ever get tired of seeing her _here_, after spending so many years convinced he’d never see her again at all.

Her hand dropped from her face when she caught sight of him entering the room, turning her head to look at him, and he wished his one pitiful heart would stop _thumping_ like that every time they made eye contact.

Her reaction was barely noticeable at first, as she probably took him for the _other _Doctor. Her brow furrowed a little, then, her eyes leaving his to take a proper look at him, and he could almost pinpoint the exact moment she realised who he was.

As she met his eyes again, her face slowly broke into the kind of smile she hadn’t given him since that night in London, when they’d run towards one another.

Needless to say, this reaction was enough to put most of his worries to rest, unable to keep himself from smiling back, although a tad less brightly, maybe.

“What d’you think?” he asked, too casually to be convincing.

Still smiling, she opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by another voice – _his_ voice, behind him in the corridor.

“What are you doing?”

There was no hint of sympathy in that voice, his tone tense and irritated, finding a matching expression on his face when he turned to look at his counterpart, who soon came to a stop next to him, frowning deeply as he took him in.

The Doctor shrugged a shoulder, his hands disappearing in his pockets, mirroring his original self’s posture, deciding not to answer.

His silence only seemed to aggravate the other man, his frown already turning into a glower. “I thought we’d agreed to stop with the pettiness,” he said in that same unfriendly tone.

“I’m not being petty,” the Doctor replied. “I like the brown suit.”

“_I_ wear the brown suit,” the other man replied just as quickly.

“Which would be a very strong argument, if we were six years old.”

“Oh, don’t try making this about how _I_'m being immature,” his counterpart said, nearly sneering now. “How exactly do you think this is gonna work? There are _two _of us, which is confusing enough without us dressing up in the same bloody suit!”

The was a loud, throat-clearing sound, and they both turned their glare on Rose, who stood with her arms crossed, clearly annoyed by their renewed bickering. Being up near the console while they remained near the room’s entrance, she also happened to tower over them.

“First of all, the arguing? More irritating than cute,” she stated. When the Doctor opened his mouth to complain that _he_ himself hadn’t even said anything argumentative, she raised a hand. “Let me finish before any of you starts ranting at me, yeah?

“You really don’t have to make this complicated,” she said, speaking directly to the Time Lord Doctor. “I get what you’re saying, about it being confusing, with you being the same man and all that, but since we can all agree that you both know who you are without needing to check which suit colour you’re wearing, then it means the only person who can get confused from all this is me. And I’m fine.”

She looked at them both in turn, none of them saying anything.

“I _really_ am,” she continued. “I don’t mind the two of you wearing the brown suit, just like I wouldn’t mind you both wearing blue. You could even _swap_ colours for all I care. Yeah, it might lead to some moments of confusion every now and again, but you gonna have to trust me when I say that I know exactly who you are.”

Across from him, his counterpart looked rather unhappy about the fact that there wasn’t much he could say to that, his jaws as clenched as the rest of his body.

“So,” Rose spoke again after a few seconds of tensed silence. “D’you reckon we can do some sightseeing without the two of you tearing each other’s head off? Or without me ending up unconscious, this time?”

“Now _that_ really was the result of some unfortunate events,” the Doctor quickly blurted out.

“Not to mention how you keep jumping into dangerous situations without thinking,” his original self added, back to scowling.

Rose simply blinked at him, completely unfazed by his remark, obviously waiting.

“Fine,” the other man eventually said, reluctantly. “No tearing each other’s head off.”

When she turned her eyes on him, the Doctor went for a short nod, biting down on his urge to remind her that most of these ‘arguments’ they kept having were _clearly_ instigated by his counterpart.

Despite having just promised to be ‘good’, it didn’t keep them from glowering at each other as they walked to the console and took their places on opposite sides of it; when he tossed back the screwdriver to his original self, he may have tossed it a _tad_ too ‘enthusiastically’.

As he worked with the other man to bring their ship to the right planet, he forced himself to calm down and remember _why_ they were going there. This trip was for Rose. They really had spent enough time being egotistical arses.

Once again, she made it easy for him to forget their squabbles as soon as they stepped out of the TARDIS, her face quickly breaking into a new beaming smile as she took in this new scenery.

Noradelea was a lovely little planet; there really was no better way to describe it. About the size of the Earth’s moon, it was mostly made of hills, valleys and gorges, its lands vastly covered with forests made of massive trees that looked like a cross between maples and oaks. It didn’t have any ocean or sea, but five large lakes. They’d landed a few miles uphill from one of them, the water impossible to miss at the bottom of the valley.

None of which were the most noticeable feature of this planet.

“That sky’s beautiful,” Rose breathed out.

Despite the one sun still being quite high, the sky was a blend of colours; mauve, orange, and several shades of blues, giving it a kind of sunset look, which was affecting the look of the water, its limpid surface allowing for a near perfect reflection.

“Different atmosphere,” his original self explained. “Light scatters differently here than it does on Earth.”

It’d been a while since the Doctor had visited this place; it looked exactly like he remembered it, yet something felt…off. He couldn’t quite figure out why, trying his best to ignore the nagging feeling as they began walking towards the main town, which stretched towards the lake, quickly joining the fluid crowd of people doing the same thing.

Most of them were Noradeleans, the humanoid species native to this planet, but the diversity was such that it was obvious people had come from all over the place, many of which were wearing similar clothing and face markings. The air of festivities was unmistakable the closer they got to town, yet the mood was more vibrant than exuberant.

“What kind of celebration is this?” Rose asked.

“_Yibbueruta Gechia_,” the Time Lord Doctor said, which caused Rose to frown a little. “_Flight to the_ _beyond_,” he translated crudely, the language too ancient for the TARDIS to do it for Rose. “It takes place on this planet’s summer solstice, which occurs once every seven Earth years or so.”

“Flight to the beyond,” Rose repeated.

The Doctor exchanged a glance with his original self, before explaining: “It refers to the main event, which will happen after the sun sets. People come here to commemorate. To honour those who have passed, or those who are…no longer in their life.”

From the look on her face, she seemed to understand the implications behind his word well enough, or why they’d chosen to bring _her_ here, her skin suddenly paler, even in these warm colours.

“We can leave,” he almost blurted out, once again finding his emotional filter to be lacking, suddenly realising how presumptuous it’d been, to take her here without asking her first. “If you want,” he added clumsily.

Rose met his eyes, her lips stretching into a sad kind of smile, giving a small shake of her head. “We should stay,” she replied quietly, before resuming her walking, and they followed.

She was a bit quieter than usual as they walked through the busy streets, although she did continue to ask questions about the different customs they were witnessing. When they neared a larger crowd gathering, they stopped some distance away, watching the show that was captivating people’s attention – a small group of Noradeleans were performing what resembled a dance, their movements graceful and fluid despite the lack of…

The thought died in his mind as understanding hit him, feeling his body break into cold sweat again, as he realised _why_ the place felt different from the other times he’d been there.

“What are they dancing to?” Rose asked, almost entranced by the performance.

The Doctor physically couldn’t answer, his throat having closed up while his heart was beating too fast again.

He could always count on his counterpart to step up, though. The Time Lord Doctor didn’t say anything at all, bringing a hand up to Rose’s face instead, initiating a telepathic link right there in front of him.

The fact alone that he did it without _asking_ first was all the proof he needed to know this was something they’d done before, beyond that one time he’d witnessed, back on Felspoon.

All he could do was watch, just as he had then, not a mere bystander, but an outsider, too, Rose’s eyes widening as she began to hear the music he himself couldn’t hear anymore.

The music he would never hear again.

…

There was something equally soothing and sorrowful about the melody Rose was now able to…hear.

_Hearing_ wasn’t even the right word for it; she…felt it, resonating through her. It wasn’t long before she felt herself becoming overwhelmed with the sense of loss and grief she’d been trying to keep buried with increasing difficulty, these last few days.

The Doctor could tell, his mind now connected to hers, although nowhere as strongly as it’d been, only hours ago. When he sensed how overcome she was getting, he gently tuned the music down, before letting his fingers fall from her face, still standing close enough that she had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze.

“D’you…” She swallowed passed the lump in her throat. “You just hear that all the time, then?”

“On this planet? Yes,” he answered. “There’s actually a fairly large amount of species that emit some degree of telepathic ‘noise’, including the Theihraths we met on Felspoon, or the Oods we encountered on Krop Tor. Telepathy is one of these abilities that varies greatly from species to species. Few can use it the way Time Lords can. Or could.”

These words in particular made Rose realise that the other Doctor hadn’t said anything in a while, and she turned to look at him…only to find him gone.

He’d walked away from them, but she spotted him easily enough, having backtracked a little, leaning against a railing, looking down at the level below, his back turned so that she couldn’t see his face.

She didn’t need to.

“He’s not telepathic anymore, is he?” she asked in a tight voice, her chest aching, looking back up at the Doctor who still stood by her side.

He shook his head. “Not really,” he admitted. “I’m sure he’s got some traces left, and he might even be able to train himself to develop more of it with time and hard work but…” He gave a stiff shrug, the thought clearly making him uncomfortable.

For Rose’s part, the ache spread from her chest to her throat as she stared at the other Doctor’s back.

“Can you…give us a minute?” she asked the Doctor. When she looked up at him again, she wasn’t really surprised by his small scowl. “Don’t,” she told him quietly, with a note of reproach. “If we want _this_ to go anywhere, you’re gonna have to let me help him, just like I help you.” He still didn’t look convinced. “He’s _you_,” she reminded him. “How d’you think you’d feel, if this happened to you? If _he _could do what you just did to me, while you just stood there and watched?”

He clenched his jaws, his brow still creased, but he eventually nodded, before pointing at an area further down the path, from which some smoke was emerging. “We’ll be able to get food, there. I’ll head there now. Just come join me when…” He cleared his throat. “Well, you know.”

She gave him a small, grateful smile, before pushing herself up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, her smile widening at the way he pulled on his ear as he walked away from her.

Rose quickly made her way to the other Doctor, soon coming to a stop next to him; he didn’t look at her, still watching the lower level, which looked like a playground, children from all kind of species running after each other with squeals of laughter and glee.

Rose didn’t look at them for long, her eyes having managed to find a boy who looked a bit too much like her brother, focusing all of her attention on his profile instead.

“You okay?” she eventually asked.

He gave a stiff shrug of his shoulders, before pushing his specs back up his nose, ignoring the fact that gravity was making them slide right back down.

“I should be the one asking you this,” he deflected, exactly like his counterpart had only hours ago when she’d asked him the same question. “This visit is supposed to be about you, not me.”

“’s not a competition,” she replied, experiencing an odd moment of déjà-vu – something she really should get used to, seeing as she was bound to live through many more of these identical conversations, given the fact that _they were the same man_. “You’re allowed to feel bad, too. I don’t know much about telepathy, but I think I understand enough to get why you’re upset.”

He clenched his jaws, just like the other Doctor had earlier, still not looking at her. “Do you, now?”

His tone was low, and a tad condescending, everything she disliked about the nastier side of him; he was in pain, but she couldn’t help feeling a pang of hurt at his attitude.

He closed his eyes, his face scrunching up in guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice almost hoarse, now. “I’m being an arse.”

“You kinda are, yeah,” Rose told him, sternly enough to make it clear she wasn’t going to take any of this crap from him any more than she had with his counterpart, but with a note of sarcasm, too, so he’d know she wasn’t terribly upset.

He finally turned his head and looked at her, and the next pang she felt was of a different kind, aching at the look of defeat in his eyes. “I really am trying hard not to be petty about this,” he admitted in a voice that was even thicker.

“Petty about…what?” she asked.

He straightened up, pushing his glasses back up his nose again as he turned and leaned heavily against the railing, already back to avoiding her eyes. “About him being able to connect with you in ways I can’t. Not anymore.”

She considered her next words carefully as she took in his tensed frame. “Telepathy really was a big thing for Time Lords, then,” she said.

He let out a short scoff, still looking straight ahead, anywhere but at her. “There’s a reason why you probably always found me to be lacking in proper etiquette, as far as social interactions went. Time Lords were never really good at interacting with anyone, not even within their own species. They had their own form of intimacy, though, like any social beings. Still, they’d perfected the art of initiating intimacy ‘at a distance’ long before they started reproducing using Looms, which made things like sex pretty obsolete.” He blushed a little at these words, pulling at his ear just like his counterpart had. “Intimacy on Gallifrey was all about the meeting of the minds, which required very little contact, or even none at all. A true telepathic bond can be, and will be, very intense,” he added wistfully. “Which is something I suspect you’re starting to realise.”

There was no accusation in that last sentence, no resentment, not even jealousy or envy.

Just…resignation.

“Look at me,” she asked him softly.

He turned his head, almost reluctantly, meeting her eyes.

“I’m not gonna stand here and pretend that’s not happening, ‘cause it is, and I don’t want to lie to you,” she said, and he swallowed almost convulsively, but he maintained eye contact. “Doesn’t mean that what you and me have ‘s not just as meaningful. We went months and months without me even knowing anything about how important telepathy was to you. It didn’t keep me from feeling really close to you, and ‘m pretty sure you felt pretty close to me, too. That’s not changed.”

He took a bit of a wobbly breath, finally looking away. “I appreciate that,” he said, his voice too thick. “It still doesn’t change the fact that I’ll never be able to…_feel_ you like that.” He closed his eyes and grimaced again. “I’m not saying this right.”

Rose had heard enough.

She reached down to take one of his hands, soon holding it in both of hers, turning it over and slowly pressing her thumbs into his palm, before drawing lazy circles upon his soft skin. She watched his face as he stared down at their hands, his breathing already a lot shallower than it was moments ago.

When he raised his head to look at her, their gazes locking, she turned his hand over, applying more rolling pressure upon muscles and bones, feeling the shivers running through him.

“Can you feel that?” she asked him quietly, barely even blinking anymore as she stared at him.

He swallowed hard, before giving a short nod of his head. “Yes,” he breathed out.

“Good,” she said just as quietly, one of her hands having moved from the top of his fingers to graze her nails over his wrist, before disappearing inside, passed the cusp of his jacket, creating stronger shivers beneath his skin, his eyes slightly hooded now. “‘cause this is me, too.”

She did not resist when he raised his free hand to cup her cheek and draw her up into a kiss, all too happy to let herself be pulled. Once again, there was no rush, no hurry...the meeting of their lips more about taking in the feel of the other through every one of their senses…the sound of his slow, shallow breathing, the smell of him, his taste…all things that did not require any telepathic bond yet made her insides ache for _more_.

Even when the kiss broke, they simply stood there a few moments longer, his nose pressed to her forehead, all ten of her fingers intertwined with five of his, his other hand buried in her hair.

“Better?” she whispered after a while.

He nodded against her, slowly, before stepping back with obvious reluctance.

They kept holding hands as they walked down the path towards the ‘food market’ area the other Doctor had indicated. When they got closer, she gave his fingers a squeeze before releasing his hand, relieved when he didn’t make any comment or looked troubled by it. If anything else, she was grateful that they both seemed willing to be sensible about…_this_ – whatever _this_ was.

The other Doctor continued to put that into action when they found him at one of the food stands; he didn’t ask any question, not even giving his counterparts any kind of scowling looks.

He shoved something gooey and pungent right under Rose’s nose instead, insisting that she _had_ to try this. She did – a testament to her trust in him.

Once she got over the initial acidity, which was so potent that it caused her eyes and nose to leak profusely, she was rewarded with some of the sweetest flavours she’d ever tasted, the food seeming to fizz against her tongue as it dissolved in her mouth, while the Time Lord Doctor chattered about how good this would be for her skin, already moving on to the next food stand.

The other Doctor soon joined in the food testing and rambling, the two of them quickly back to trying to out-talk each other. That was something she didn’t mind, having always found his babbling more amusing and entertaining than irritating – and she would rather have them bickering over which planet had the best _cabbipes_ than having to listen to them being unnecessarily vicious towards _themselves_.

That, and she’d long ago learned to tune out most of what they were rambling about anyway…unless they were in a life-or-death situation.

Today, she used this opportunity to observe them through their endless back-and-forth; now that they wore the exact same suit, they looked (and sounded) particularly indiscernible from one another. Yet Rose hadn’t lied when she’d claimed to know exactly who they were.

Obviously, the spectacles were an easy giveaway, but she could have told them apart regardless, as the differences went beyond noticeable physical attributes. Her Time Lord Doctor was simply more…tense, more poised, while there was something inherently less guarded about his more human counterpart, something more…vulnerable.

She didn’t miss the way they regularly glanced at her, as if to gauge her state of mind, aware that she was particularly quiet today, and that their excessive talking might also be their way of compensating for it. She was finding it more and more difficult to ignore _why_ they were here, unable to push away the memories of all these street fairs she’d went to with her mother as a child, or the Christmas market her family had dragged her to, over eighteen months ago.

Tony hadn’t even been two years old at the time, barely a toddler, and the combination of lights, colours and smells had made him particularly gleeful; he’d seemed even more excited that he got to spend most of the afternoon in Rose’s arms.

Her little brother _adored_ her, which was part of the reasons why she’d tried so hard to reduce their time together, because every time they did, her own love for that tiny human only seemed to get stronger, and she’d _known _there’d be a time when she wouldn’t be in his life anymore, nor would he be in hers.

As the sun began to set, the sky’s colours shifted to darker colours, until the lake seemed equally ablaze with light. While they’d been surrounded with actual _flames_ only a handful of days ago, there was nothing stressful about their current settings, finding the scenery more soothing than anything else she’d seen in a while.

It wasn’t long before she began spotting the Noradeleans walking around carrying large baskets, which appeared to be filled with…stones? They were coming up to everybody, offering them to pick from the basket, and most did, sometimes just one or two, while others went for entire handfuls.

“What are those?” she eventually asked as one of the basket-carrying Noradeleans approached them.

“_Ayamys_,” one of the Doctors answered. “Dormant ones. They’ll activate in a little while.” She turned to look at them, as if this was supposed to make _any_ sense to her. “They’re used as…tokens,” the Human Doctor added. “They’re meant to represent those who were lost.”

Rose peered inside the basket; the _ayamys_ looked smooth, almost like skipping stones, although they seemed more round than flat.

“Take as many as you want,” the young Noradelean told her. “Or none at all. They are gifts from our earth, meant to be shared and sent back to the sky.”

More confused than she’d been a minute ago, Rose reached into the basket, carefully picking three of them, immediately noticing how warm they felt to the touch.

When the Noradelean turned to the Doctors, they both shook their heads. “Not today,” the Time Lord Doctor said.

Rose examined the smooth…token, unable to determine what they were made of. “They’re some kind of…living things, yeah?”

“They are,” one of them said. “More plant-like than animal, to your Earth standards. They’re a special kind of seed, really. They come from those trees that cover most of the planet’s surface.”

Around them, the crowd was now moving steadily towards the lake, the sun having almost reached the horizon.

“Let’s go find a spot,” the Time Lord Doctor said. “It won’t be long, now.”

They followed the downwards stream of people, until they reached the bank, quickly finding a spot and settling down on the grass. Once the sun disappeared, Rose had to squint to be able to see, as there was no moon in the sky, only stars, and no source of light anywhere near the lake, where hundreds of people had gathered.

“Is it gonna be some kind of light show?” she asked.

“Sort of,” the part-human Doctor said. “Something happens after the sun sets on this very day, changing the molecular vibrations in the atmosphere, creating a kind of…well, you’ll see. It causes the _ayamys_ to leave their dormant state. They become quite bright when they do.”

“They also become aerial,” his counterpart added. “It’s a simple chemical reaction, when it comes down to it. The transformation from chemical energy into light energy changes their density while releasing a gas that causes them to rise, until the reaction can’t sustain itself anymore, at which point they fall back down to the planet’s surface. The right conditions only present themselves once every seven years, so it’s a bit tricky, as far as seed dispersal goes. Definitely not the most efficient, if you ask me.”

“Few choose to see it that way, though,” the other Doctor continued. “Noradeleans became fascinated with the phenomenon thousands of years ago, understandably so. Over centuries and millennia, it became an inherent part of their culture, eventually attracting people from all over this galaxy.”

It started quietly.

The humming.

At first, Rose thought it was the crowd making the sound, until she realised that it came from _everywhere_, a couple of low, harmonious notes that were soon filling the night air, and seemed to reverberate at the very centre of her chest.

In her hands, the _ayamys _were warming up, as all around them, specks of light began to appear. People started to stand as the music became louder, and the lights brighter, surrounding each individual in a soft halo, even as some began to extend their hands outward.

And then, the lights began to rise.

Rose could feel the heat between her fingers, hotter and hotter, yet not painful. She looked down at the light streaming between her fingers, making them look bright pink, feeling the pressure they exerted, too, as they were reacting the way the Doctors said they would.

Carefully, she stood back up, mesmerised by the sight before her, lights rising slowly everywhere she looked, overwhelmed at the simple thought of what each of them meant for the people surrounding her.

She thought of the Doctors, who had declined taking any. ‘_Not today_,’ he’d said, implying that they had done this before, wondering how many they’d have to pick to be truthful about every loss they’d suffered after living so long; probably enough to fill their own corner of the sky.

It became difficult to ignore the pressure between her closed hands, aware that all she had to do was open up her fingers to let her _ayamys_ go, all three of them.

It was harder than she’d expected.

She sensed their presence more than she saw them, aware that both of them were now standing near her, one on each side of her, silent, yet there.

“_Live your life, sweetheart_,” her Mum had whispered in her ear before walking out of the TARDIS, sealing their fates in different universes.

She’d done it, because she’d known for years that this was the choice her daughter had made, a long time ago.

Rose opened her hands, feeling the tears rolling down her cheeks as she watched all three _ayamys_ slowly beginning to rise, taking their flight to the beyond. She watched them, until they joined the thousands of lights illuminating the sky, brighter and warmer than any star.

Her hands did not remain empty for long, feeling their fingers reach out for hers in perfect synchronicity. Once again, she did not need to _look_ to know, the difference in the heat of their skin giving them away as they intertwined their fingers with hers, even before she sensed the tentative wave of comfort seeping from the colder of the two, and she squeezed their fingers with equal strength as their sides leaned into hers.

She rested her temple upon her Human Doctor’s shoulder, soon feeling his warm breath in her hair. She let him comfort her, soothed by the tangible feel of him, while the warmth of the other Doctor’s mind gently enveloped hers, and she let him, easing some of her pain from deep within.

Standing there beneath a thousand shimmering souls, light-years away from Earth, Rose felt home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know many of us are dealing with grief right now, and my heart goes out to you; this is how I try to cope.
> 
> On a less depressing note, their next big adventure is just around the corner. No, not in _that way_ (although…) I’m talking ‘at least 2 or 3 chapters long’ kind of adventure, which tends to require much minute planning from my tired brain, hence a possible delay in posting – aren’t you all glad I’ll forever be an unsatisfied perfectionist :'D I’m aiming for ‘Waters of Mars’ kind of vibes, because I just love that episode.
> 
> Feedback remains the most effective way to make your fanfic writers feel appreciated and motivated, especially in times like these ♥


	18. Quiet Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep deprivation truly is a problem, but if anything else, it can lead to middle-of-the-night talks or…well, to things that require a lot less talking.
> 
> Chapter rating: Mature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The notification system is soooo wonky these days, I hope this chapter finds you. No adventure yet, as my idiots decided to take over again and be particularly emotional, dramatic and horny, so who was I to fight them?
> 
> I want to dedicate this chapter to Giulia, not simply for being a lovely, lovely human, but also because her thorough and generous analyses never fail to spark my inspiration. Honey, our two idiot boys would not be where they are now if it weren’t for you ♥
> 
> This chapter is M rated ;-)
> 
> (Also as I post this, I’ve just spent over seven hours editing this big thing while being sleep deprived myself, so do forgive any weirdness)

**Chapter Eighteen – Quiet Hours**

The Doctor had always disliked the empty hours he was forced to spend on his own whenever his companion(s) went to sleep; time seemed to drag on and _on_, especially when that companion was Rose.

Every ten days or so, he would get some sleep himself, but even that was nothing compared to the eight hours of rest she seemed to not only require, but to rather enjoy as well. That wasn’t exactly news to him, having become familiar with that trait of hers within days of having her on his ship, all these years ago, a habit she seemed happy to resume, now that they were settling into some sort of routine.

After Noradelea, they barely stopped moving, Rose’s innate curiosity and desire to see _more_ having been piqued again, and they were all too happy to oblige. Still reeling from everything that had happened, and not exactly eager to tempt fate, they avoided the _random_ setting whenever they travelled, preferring to stick to places and times they knew to be fairly risk free.

It really began to feel like it used to, his days filled with Rose’s smiles and Rose’s laughter and Rose’s hand clasped in his. Sure, there were also _planets_ and _aliens_ and a fair amount of _running_ despite their best efforts, but none of these things mattered quite as much.

He didn’t even mind that she was also holding another man’s hand, or that her laughter and smiles weren’t always directed his way, because technically…well. They were. <strike></strike>

Their waking hours might currently be ‘death threats’ free, they were still quite taxing, which led to Rose’s renewed passion for _sleeping_. From everything she’d told them, he imagined she didn’t get to sleep neither well nor much these last few months; he couldn’t bring himself to shorten her nights, only asking the TARDIS to sound the ‘meeting’ alarm in her room if she still hadn’t emerged from it after twelve hours in there.

While Rose seemed determined on catching up on all the sleep she’d missed, his counterpart seemed to have gone back to _not_ sleeping. Again.

Well. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to phrase it.

Using the word _again_ would imply that him not sleeping was an anomaly, in what would otherwise be healthy sleeping habits, when it was clear to all involved that he’d always struggled with it.

(Except for that one time)

And it wasn’t like the Doctor _wanted_ to care about what the other man was up to during their down time, but the fact of the matter was, they were a part of each other’s life, now, forced to cohabit and pretend to at least get along because of their common…interest.

It was impossible to ignore the way sleep deprivation was steadily affecting him again when they spent most of their time together, witnessing the slow decline in both his mood and mental stability first-hand, as more days went by and he clearly wasn’t getting the rest he needed.

Him not sleeping also meant that the Doctor was all too likely to stumble upon him in various parts of the TARDIS during these quiet hours, as the other man had retained the habits he himself had developed through years of having to keep himself busy.

He therefore was not surprised when he entered the library tonight, and found his counterpart already in there…

…sprawled on his back over the floor, with his legs up against an armchair, arms spread out, an open book resting on his face.

The Doctor wished he could say the sight surprised him, but it really didn’t. He also knew better than to assume he’d actually fallen asleep in this bizarre position.

“I know how this looks,” his metacrisis self said, his voice half-muffled against the book.

“I really don’t think you do,” the Doctor replied, his tone unmistakably condescending, staying a good distance away from the other man, pushing his hands in his pockets.

His counterpart sighed, the sound still somewhat muted, before reaching up to pull the book off his face. As he made to get off the floor, his movements were too jerky, although his limbs seemed particularly heavy, readjusting his spectacles as he let himself sink into the armchair – still not in the proper position, sitting sideways so that his legs dangled over the armrest.

Within seconds, he was pretending to be reading his book, as if he hadn’t just tried taking a nap on the floor.

His overall appearance was…poor.

Obvious signs of exhaustion aside, his clothes were rumpled, not even wearing a tie, as if he’d hastily put his shirt and brown suit back on before leaving his room, giving him an unkempt look that was even worse than usual.

The crease in the other man’s brow was becoming deeper and deeper the longer the Doctor stood there staring at him, yet he chose not to comment on it, this time, carrying on with pretending to be reading. While the Doctor could appreciate his reluctance to start what would undoubtedly turn into another bickering row, he personally was hoping they could have a polite conversation.

He’d had a little too much time to think recently, while the other people on this ship slept – or didn’t; one of the things he’d reluctantly come to realise was that this entire situation would definitely be easier if the two of them could learn to be…civil.

“What’s this place?” he eventually asked after a rather uncomfortable stretch of silence.

The other man peered at him over the rim of his glasses; since they still shared the same mind (for the most part), he knew he was debating how to answer a question that sounded quite stupid.

_A library_, was what the Doctor would have answered, if their positions had been reversed.

There had been no animosity in his query, though; the Doctor was genuinely curious about the answer, and his counterpart had noticed. He himself had shapeshifted this room often enough through the last few centuries to know that it usually took the form of a place he’d visited during his travels.

And while there was something familiar about this particular design, it definitely wasn’t any place he recognised, much smaller than the libraries he usually preferred; cosier, too.

His other self was looking around, now, having realised the same thing.

“It looks like a library from Aylesbury,” he eventually answered, already focusing back on his book.

The Doctor frowned. “Why Aylesbury?”

“Donna’s grandparents lived there when she was growing up,” he answered to his book. “She spent a lot of time in that library with Wilf.”

He didn’t say anything else, yet the tension in him was unmistakable, as if he was expecting to be mocked for this revelation.

The Doctor did not mock him, back to watching him in silent contemplation, taking in his pale, stubbled skin, the dark circles clearly visible under his eyes, even with glasses on.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” his counterpart eventually asked with a note of annoyance.

“You’re not sleeping,” he stated in response.

Rose had spoken the exact same words earlier today when they were on Uaria XII, a planet that only had a fifth of the Earth gravity; his more human self had spent most of their trip there complaining about how _bouncy_ it was.

Of course Rose was just as aware as him of his counterpart’s sleep deprivation. Just like they _all_ knew what would help. He’d seen the unspoken offer in her eyes just hours ago, while the three of them stood in the control room before they all went their separate way, something that still remained rather awkward.

Despite the three of them having just spent the last few days getting along in what appeared to be ‘perfect harmony’, no one was ever saying what was really on their mind, because they still hadn’t _discussed_ what was all right and what wasn’t. The fact that ‘this’ seemed to be going rather smoothly so far was all thanks to Rose being intuitive enough to be able to navigate these troubled waters without causing any major crisis.

Despite it all, she obviously didn’t feel like it would be appropriate for her to offer his more human self to come _sleep_ with her while the Doctor stood right there in the same room – at least not out loud; the offer had been there, unspoken yet unambiguous.

Similarly, considering the fact that he was up in the middle of ‘the night’, pretending to be reading in spite of his apparent exhaustion, the other man didn’t seem to think it would be appropriate to take her up on said offer either.

The Doctor supposed this was what Donna meant, when she’d told them they _needed_ to talk. There was only so much they could do without defining some clear boundaries.

“I’m fine,” his counterpart told him tonight, just as he had told Rose earlier, his voice as short as it’d been then.

The Doctor leaned his shoulder against the nearest bookcase. “I get why you’re choosing the lie to Rose,” he said. “I probably would lie, too. Not sure why you’re insisting on lying to me, though. You do realise it’s pointless, right?”

He closed his book, finally turning his head to look at him. “Is it, really?” he asked, his tone almost cold, now. “You’ve been nothing but spiteful towards me and my existence from the moment I regenerated, and while we could spend hours debating whether or not it’s just a really twisted way for you to express your self-loathing, we both know it goes beyond that, and that you hate me on principle. So you’ll excuse me if I find it hard to be open and honest with you, but I’m sure you understand how self-preservation works.”

The Doctor never liked being called-out.

Being called out by _himself_ was particularly unpleasant.

“I don’t hate you,” he eventually said.

“Of course you don’t,” his counterpart replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“I _don’t_,” he insisted, because he truly didn’t – although he was already getting annoyed. “I’m just…”

But that was another sentence he couldn’t finish, sighing in frustration as he turned, leaning back heavily against the bookcase, unable to maintain eye contact.

“Surely you can sympathise with what this feels like, to me,” he eventually said, keeping his voice low.

“I _have_ sympathised,” the other man replied at once, sounding properly irritated, now. “I’ve gone as far as defending you and your attitude when you were nothing but an arse to Rose. But I’m gonna have to pull out that ‘self-preservation’ card again, because there is only so much sympathising I can do when all you do is _mock_ me or force me to watch while you – ”

It was his turn to stop mid-sentence.

The Doctor turned his head to look at him, watching as the other man brought a hand to his face, pushing his glasses up as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t get why you feel so threatened by me,” he admitted, keeping his eyes closed, sounding as exhausted and defeated as he looked. “I’ll never measure up to you, especially where Rose is concerned.”

The Doctor stared at him, sheer disbelief flooding through him. “You’re joking, right?”

His counterpart dropped his hand, reopening his eyes to stare at him with a scowl. “Not really in a joking mood.” His next inhale sounded a bit wobbly as he averted his eyes. “You ask me to sympathise with you, but I don’t think you’ve been that clement with me.” He swallowed hard. “You don’t know what it’s like, to feel like the person you’ve always been just…_less_. It’s even worse with you there, because it’s a constant reminder that I’m nothing but a copy. And not a very good one at that.”

The Doctor’s disbelief worsened with every new sentence coming out of the other’s mouth, genuinely shocked by the fact that _he_ obviously hadn’t realised what the metacrisis meant.

“You’re part-_human_,” he decided to remind him.

The other man tilted his head back against the armchair with another exhausted sigh. “Yes, I have noticed, _thanks_.”

“No, I don’t think you have,” the Doctor said. “If you had, you wouldn’t be sitting there, wallowing in self-pity, pretending not to understand what it means.”

He was properly scowling, now. “Enlighten me, then.”

“You’re…a better fit,” he said, nearly cringing at the words, as they did little to convey what he was trying to say. “Which is why you staying with Rose in the other universe would have been the best outcome, especially for her.”

“Don’t start again,” the other man said with a shake of his head, his voice thicker. “She made it clear it wasn’t what _she_ wanted. She would never have accepted to be left behind with me.”

“You would have been fine,” the Doctor countered, unable not to sound a tad bitter. “Look at the two of you, now. You seem to be doing all right.”

“That’s only because you’re here, too!” he almost snapped. “In case you hadn’t noticed, she’s always pursuing _you_. She didn’t come back for a hand-me-down version of the Doctor. She came back for _you_.”

“Oh, please,” the Doctor said, equally irritated. “It’s not like the two of you haven’t been all over each other. I’ve been in her _head_, I know what you’ve been up to.”

This struck a chord.

The look on his counterpart’s face at this reminder of what he’d lost was enough to cause most of his frustration to drain out of him, replaced by a non-negligible amount of guilt.

“Listen,” he said, much more quietly, but the other man kept his eyes fixed on a point in the distance. “Despite what you think, I do sympathise, and even _empathise_. I know exactly what you must be thinking, about me being able to bond with her, when you can’t anymore.”

“Is this you being sympathetic? Because you really – ”

“I am not finished,” he interrupted him sternly. “You’re part-human,” he repeated, and the other man actually groaned in frustration, bringing both his hands under his glasses this time to rub at his eyes. “Just listen!”

They were both surprised by the urgency in his voice, his counterpart finally looking back at him.

“You’ve got _humanity_ in you,” the Doctor told him, his voice almost as thick as his counterpart’s had been a minute ago. “That very thing we’ve always admired about humans, that very thing we’ve always loved about Rose. It’s in you, now. And she can _tell_. You get to relate to her, and connect with her in a way I never will. No amount of bonding will ever make me any less alien to her.”

The following silence, while heavy, wasn’t quite as awkward as silences tended to be between them. They stared at each other, almost as if they were seeing the other for the first time.

“So…let me get this straight,” his counterpart eventually spoke again. “We’ve been at each other’s throat all that time because we’re secretly envious of the other being…better suited for Rose?”

The Doctor let out a tired scoff, back to leaning against the bookcase, not looking at the other man anymore. “You can’t really be that surprised.” When his counterpart remained quiet, he glanced back his way. “It’d be daft to assume any version of us would ever feel good enough for Rose.”

The other man pursed his lips, tilting his head in agreement. “And yet, she’s still here.”

“Indeed, she is.”

Another long silence.

“What do we do, then?”

He turned to look at his counterpart. “We keep working on not being egotistical arses,” he suggested. “I don’t think we’re being very good at it.”

“Nah, we’re not.” The other man looked properly exhausted now, his skin more greyish than pale.

The Doctor pushed himself off the bookcase, walking towards the door. He stopped with his hand on the handle.

“Just…go get some sleep,” he told him without turning around. “You don’t need my permission to go to her.”

As he walked out of the room, he knew that was exactly what he’d given him.

…

He wasn’t alone in the library more than ten minutes, trying to take in everything that had just been said, that he finally made up his mind to do what he’d been wanting to do for a while, now, as each new night only brought more nightmares and not much rest.

He did realise that it was all kind of pathetic, how he apparently couldn’t get any proper sleep unless Rose was there, but he was past caring about being pathetic.

He was _tired_.

He was tired, and being tired made him miserable, prone to self-pity, and altogether rather unpleasant.

Their TARDIS being even more of a matchmaker than Donna had ever been, he couldn’t say he was surprised to find that Rose’s bedroom had moved and was now only two doors down from the library.

He didn’t bother knocking quietly, aware of how heavy her sleep could be, giving the door a couple of good bangs instead. About forty seconds later, the door was opening, revealing a half-asleep human with heavy eyes and messy hair, a sight that filled him with an equal amount of guilt and endearment.

She spoke before he could. “Took you long enough,” she mumbled sleepily, already reaching down to grab his hand, wordlessly dragging him inside, everything in her movements making it clear she just wanted to go back to sleep.

He let himself be dragged, closing the door behind him, plunging the room into near-darkness, something for which he was grateful, as it made him feel a little less exposed – although he did trip on what had to be a pile of discarded clothes while following her.

When they reached her bed, she let go of his hand, only to start pushing his jacket off his shoulders instead. He let her, the piece of clothing soon joining hers on the floor.

She went for his trousers, then, her fingers remarkably nimble on his button given her current, half-awake state.

“W-What are you doing?” he stammered pathetically – although he did nothing to stop her.

He could just make out her features, his eyes already adjusting to the lack of light, enough to notice the sleepy smile on her lips. “I was in the middle of m’sleep cycle, so don’t get any ideas,” she whispered. “You’ll be more comfortable without those on, is all. Shoes need to go, too.”

She didn’t go any further than unbuttoning his trousers for him, having made her point, reaching up to take off his specs, next. As soon as she did, the room lost what little consistency it’d gained in the last minute.

Good thing perfect vision wasn’t needed to take half of his clothes off.

After dropping his glasses on her nightstand, she let herself fall heavily upon the bed, before pulling on the comforter to create a large, inviting space for him. He joined her quickly enough, realising that feeling exposed right now was a waste of what little energy he had left, given how Rose clearly was more interested in going back to sleep than in seeing him in his underwear.

She snuggled up to him, bringing the comforter back to cover them both. Despite her obvious state of semi-consciousness, she kindly did _not_ provoke any ‘accidental’ reaction from his body, letting him hold her close the way he had quite a few times during their months of travel, but not overdoing it either.

Endearment took over any other emotion when less than a minute went by before she was snoring softly against him, his whole body already heavier with sleep. Confident that this was safe enough, he allowed himself to gather her a little closer, his nose pressed to her forehead.

Not only did he sleep, but he slept _well_, a kind of heavy, restorative sleep he most definitely needed.

The loss of his time sense made it impossible for him to determine how long he’d been out by the time he woke up, but he didn’t really mind it, in this case. Even with his eyes closed, he felt the reassuring weight of Rose’s body against his, aware that they were even closer than they’d been a few hours ago, one of her legs now between his. He was also quite sure that he could feel her breasts, pressing against his side.

He absolutely _despised_ how quickly his body reacted to that simple observation.

He truly, deeply _did not care_ about the fact that her very-much-covered breasts were making some kind of contact with his body. Not…intellectually.

His newly formed body seemed to care, a set of scenarios already forming in his mind, picturing himself slipping a hand inside her pyjamas, curious to find out just how soft her breasts were, how they would feel against his palm, also quite aware that this was one particularly sensitive area in humans.

He didn’t move, though. He was _good._

Not good enough for his traitorous brain, choosing this moment to remind him of the last time he’d woken up with Rose’s body pressed up against his, back in Donna’s room, and how she’d been so very eager to bring herself closer still.

It went downhill from there, chemicals pouring out in his blood yet again, while a fairly significant amount of it was diverted _downward_.

He was thinking about the most unpleasant looking species he’d encountered over the course of his travels when he realised Rose was awaking, something he discovered when she began _moving_.

There was no intent behind her movements, recognising that she was merely stirring and stretching against him, the way one does when in the process of waking up. And that was _fine_, absolutely fine, except that one of her legs moved, too, the one she’d slipped between his at some point during the night, bringing it higher.

Given the way he became extremely aware of the press of her knee against that hardening bulge of his, it was sensible to assume she would become aware of it, too.

That was confirmed when she stopped moving, nothing short of freezing against him.

It caused him to jolt back into his senses, long enough to encourage him to move – not by much at first, kind of sliding sideways, which successfully dislodged her body from where it’d cosily been resting these last few hours, his reaction too sudden and swift to give her a chance to counteract it.

As embarrassment settled in him and caused his entire upper body to flush, especially when he realised just _how_ worked up he’d become, he continued to move until he was sitting up, bringing his knees closer to his chest, both his hands reaching for the back of his head to take a hold of his hair, unconsciously trying to turn himself into a ball.

“I’m…sorry,” he spoke, somewhat louder than he intended, his voice still hoarse with sleep and a bit of something else.

He felt her move, soon sensing her coming closer, although she did not make their bodies touch.

“Hey,” she called him out softly.

Sure enough, when he let go of his hair and straightened up slightly, she was right next to him. Messy hair, sleepy eyes and all.

There was no smile on her lips, her gaze soft and patient.

“’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she told him quietly.

It only made him blush harder, averting his eyes as one of his hands went back to his nape.

“I don’t like this,” he admitted, dejected and frustrated. “I want to be able to _sleep_ with you without this body reacting as if I was a horny teenager.”

There was a soft pressure upon his shoulder, as Rose was now brushing her chin over his shirt. “I know this is new to you, human hormones and all that, so I dunno if you realise this but…you reacting to me like that is more flattering than insulting.”

“It’s _crude_,” he countered at once, his annoyance over his own physiology growing by the second. “I should be able to decide when and how my body reacts to yours, typically in a situation in which you’ve made it explicitly clear that you are consenting and willing. This…this is just offensive, to both of us, and it’s just so…so primitive and _human_.” He closed his eyes with a grimace. “Sorry, that was rude.”

The small gush of air she let out against his shoulder almost sounded like a breathless chuckle, indicating that she wasn’t that offended. She moved, then, bringing herself closer still, pinning herself to his side, until he was feeling the press of her breasts against him again, her warm breath now very close to his ear.

“’m not offended, Doctor…” she murmured. “And I‘m definitely consenting. Now the question is…are you?”

His reaction was, once again, way over the top, a strong wave of shudders causing his entire body to shake faintly while he flushed with heat, as aroused as he was embarrassed.

He knew Rose was waiting for an answer, feeling her breath near his ear, each of her quiet exhales causing him to shiver some more.

“Oh, I am very much consenting,” he almost choked out. “But I’m also…” He swallowed convulsively. “I’m ill-equipped,” he admitted, dejected. “I’ve got centuries of memories stored in my brain, yet all these years of experience are completely kaput, because this body’s not the one that experienced them. Well, if we’re being technical about this, a few different bodies experienced them, but at least they were all Time Lord bodies, not this…this _mess_ of hormones. And let me reiterate again just how differently Time Lords go about seeking intimacy.”

The truth was, given the various ways he’d reacted to her so far, he was genuinely afraid of how little control he would be able to retain through any of this.

With her chin resting on his shoulder again, Rose had let him go through his latest rant without interruption; she was moving, now, bringing a hand up to his face, pressing her fingers to his jaw, wordlessly asking him to look at her.

He did, meeting her eye.

“D’you trust me?” she asked quietly.

He did not hesitate, this time. “I do,” he said, his voice back to sounding hoarse.

“Good,” she said, just like she had on Noradelea, when she’d asked him if he could feel her.

Not only could he feel her, he could feel her pulsing beneath his _skin_.

“’cause here’s what I think,” she said, her fingers moving from his jaw to the back of his head, sinking into his hair in a gentle caress. “I think you’re scared. You’re scared ‘cause this is all new, and different, and it makes you feel vulnerable, especially since you can’t control any of this the way you used to.”

He didn’t say anything, simply staring at her as his heart thumped pitifully inside his chest.

“Thing is...this?” she continued. “’s all about...closeness. About making the other feel good, while being close to them.”

Tongue-tied, he eventually leaned forward, until his forehead was resting against hers, shivering as her nails slowly raked his scalp.

“It’s okay to let go, you know…” she whispered, so close to his lips. “’s just you and me, yeah?”

The next time he inhaled, she was so close that her scent seemed to invade every inch of his lungs, and it was as soothing as it was intoxicating. He shifted his body, his arm reaching out to circle her waist as his mouth sought hers.

She responded as she always had – willingly, following the momentum of his pull and moving with him as he backed himself against the headboard, until she was straddling his lap, her second hand having joined the first in his hair, fingers curling, nails scratching. His body was already overreacting to this increase in proximity, to simply being able to hold her this close, this _tight_, his arms wrapped around her, her breasts pressed to his chest, her lips against his…

And then, she moved, rolling into him in one slow, deliberate motion, inducing a perfect amount of pressure and friction right upon that aching part of him. His lips parted against hers as he sucked in some air, his next exhale rushing out of him in a low moan as she repeated the motion, causing waves of heat to begin spreading from his very core to the rest of his limbs.

Everything was _heat_, from that prickly pleasure creeping higher up his spine with every sway of her hips, to her raspy breath upon his lips, or the feel of her tongue against his own; even the feel of _her_ through their layer of clothes was warm, warm, warm…

He reached up instinctively, craving _more_ of her, his palm already cupping her flushed cheek with his fingers pressed to her temple when he realised what he was doing – or trying to do.

For one suspended second, as his mind tried reaching out to hers, he almost believed that it would work.

It didn’t.

When he tensed against her, it wasn’t the good kind of tension, and Rose could tell; she might not be connected to his mind, she seemed to understand what was happening quickly enough, stilling her movements, leaning her forehead against his, her fingers back to caressing his hair more than clutching at it.

He was hazy with desire, throbbing with a combination of need and loss, unable to cope with such a contradiction of emotions.

She didn’t give him much time to wallow.

She reached for the hand still cupping her cheek even as she unpinned herself from him; she didn’t go far, yet that small distance between their bodies made him feel another kind of loss. Her intentions became clear when she grabbed his fingers in hers, before bringing their hands down inside her pyjamas, until his was pressed upon another kind of heat.

The angle was wrong, and rather limiting; she didn’t seem to mind, her grip on his hand making it clear she wanted him to stay _right there_, letting go of his hair to grab his shoulder for leverage. In one inspired moment, he remembered that he too had another hand, which swiftly found its way under her top, finding her breast to be even softer than he’d imagined, kneading at it until her nipple was hardening against his palm, at which point he focused most of his attention on it.

The stimulus caused Rose’s hips to start rocking again, a motion that didn’t exactly benefit him, in terms of direct contact, but oh…the feel of her more than made up for it…aching at how warm and slick she was…

Beyond the mere tactile sensations, he was mesmerized by her responses to the feel of _his_ hands, from the constricted look on her face to the darkening flush in her cheeks, soon unable to maintain eye contact, every humming sound coming out of her piercing right through him, adding to his own, suspended pleasure.

When another sound pierced the air, low, yet unmistakable, his brain was somehow still functional enough to recognise its meaning.

Their presence was requested in the control room.

It took her a few seconds, but Rose recognised it, too, causing her to stop moving altogether; even her _breathing_ halted as she reopened her hazy eyes, a look of confusion taking over any other expressions she’d been making only moments ago.

His racing heart sank with her next move, as she pulled their hands out.

Despite the bitterness already burning at the back of his throat, he followed her lead, extracting his other hand from under her clothes, until they were both resting quite chastely upon her hips, his eyes now tight shut, head tilted against the headboard as he tried controlling his breathing and…_well_.

“I’m gonna...need a minute,” he managed to articulate, sounding oddly breathless.

Rationally, he knew his counterpart’s crappy timing wasn’t intentional.

For one thing, the only way for him to possibly know what they’d been up to would be for their TARDIS to _tell _him, and he knew she would never break their trust and privacy, having probably gone as far as making Rose’s room perfectly soundproof at the moment. And for all of the rude comments and pettiness his original self had shown towards him, he was still…_him_, which meant he knew for a fact that he would never sink this low.

Being rational about this did not keep the Doctor from feeling a rather strong wave of antipathy towards the other man for a moment – or two.

He was more worked up than he’d _ever_ been; the mere thought of having to get off this bed and walk back to his room while in this state was nothing short of torturous.

He eventually dropped his hands from her hips, wordlessly indicating that she not only could get off him, now, but reluctantly hoping that she would, too, in the off chance that it would help him calm down; he was all too aware of the weight of her upon his thighs.

Rose didn’t say anything; she did not move either.

When he reopened his eyes, tilting his head back down to look at her, his stomach dipped again, her gaze as intense as it’d been a minute ago when he was still touching her.

When she did move, she actually moved _forwards,_ wrapping her arms back around his neck and sinking her fingers in his hair, all the while bringing her hips significantly closer to his again.

“What are you doing?” he asked, as he had earlier in the night, just as baffled as he’d been, then.

She was so close, he was nearly trembling with the effort it took him not to grab her waist and bring her closer still, so he could resume the grinding of their hips and release some of that aching tension.

His torment must have shown on his face, because she _did_ press herself fully against him, nibbling on his bottom lip as a moan got caught in his throat.

“Never meant to just tease you,” she whispered against his parted lips. “Just…relax, yeah?”

He wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to _relax_ when she resumed the rocking of her hips, as it seemed to cause every single muscle of his body to contract, until he realised she probably meant it was all right for him to just…let go.

That was his last coherent thought before his brain shut out anything that wasn’t the feel of Rose rolling against him, her movements faster and somehow more intent than they had been only minutes ago, so that there was little to no pause between each surge of heat rushing through him.

He soon found himself with his face nestled in the crook of her neck, his half-choked moans muffled against her skin as he drowned in the smell of her, that delicious tension coiling tighter and tighter and _tighter_ in his gut with every sway of their hips.

His hoarse cry was equally muffled when the coil finally snapped and pleasure poured through him, clinging to her as he let go, losing his grip on everything – except _her_.

When he reconnected with himself, he’d slumped back heavily against the headboard, his forehead pressed between her breasts, feeling her fingers move slowly through what seemed to be rather damp hair.

Still, despite his quickly growing discomfort caused by various forms of stickiness, he felt somewhat…_high_, already deciding that this new cocktail of hormones flooding his blood might be his favourite yet, all tension seemingly banned from his body for the time being.

“Better?” Rose asked, another call-back to their conversation on Noradelea.

‘_Better’_ was a bit of an understatement.

“Oh yes,” he managed to breathe out, before forcing his neck muscles to work so he could pull his face away from her top, looking up to meet her gaze. “Thank you.”

Her smile was soft, already leaning back down to press a kiss to his nose, of all places. “My pleasure,” she whispered.

He doubted this was quite literal, though, trying to clear his head as he took a better look at her. She was flushed, and did look genuinely pleased about _him_ being satisfied, but he could tell this hadn’t been nearly as ‘pleasing’ for her as it’d been for him.

Not sure how to ask or suggest returning the favour, he settled for a bit of a suggestive raised eyebrow instead. From the look on her face, or the way her pink cheeks seemed to become _pinker_, she seemed to understand well enough.

And yet, she chose to deflect.

“We should get going,” she said, having averted her eyes. “You can use my shower if you want.”

This…confused him.

“Rose, I – ” he tried, but she stopped him with a shake of her head, looking back at him.

“I know what you’re trying to say, and it’s fine,” she told him, quietly. “I’m fine,” she insisted, but it wasn’t enough to convince him. “I just…_can’t_,” she finally admitted. “Not when I know he’s waiting on us.”

The effect was immediate, feeling a hollow form in his chest – always on the right side.

How was it that even _now_, after everything they’d just done, and when she was still straddling his lap, he still felt like she couldn’t wait to go back to _him_?

“I see,” he found himself uttering before he could give himself time to think rationally.

Somehow, these two little words and the tone he said them with were enough to cause the light to dim in her eyes, quickly replaced by hurt and disappointment, her hands slipping from his hair. She’d mentioned him struggling with vulnerability, not long ago; he definitely was too vulnerable now to be able to hide how he felt, his entire body language already back to being tensed, quickly affecting hers.

Within seconds, the mood had changed drastically, Rose obviously waiting to see if he was going to say anything else, diffuse the tension, maybe, make it clear that he had _not_ in fact already reverted back to behaving like a jealous child.

Unfortunately, he didn’t say anything at all.

The next time she moved, she moved _off_ him, until she was sitting at the edge of the bed, her back to him.

_You_ _arse_, a certain voice immediately chimed (shouted) in his head. _You bloody, insecure _arse.

Trying to ignore his nagging, ginger-haired conscience was as pointless as trying to ignore the woman it belonged to had always been.

He made the conscious effort to push aside his too-easily-bruised ego as he stared at Rose’s back and dishevelled hair, her silence and stillness nothing short of gutting.

“I’m sorry,” he told her quietly – and as honestly as he could. “I’m…still adjusting to this ‘_there’s two of me’ _situation.”

This apparently was not the right thing to say, judging by the way she turned to glare at him, her eyes _blazing_.

“So am I, Doctor,” she reminded him, her frustration causing her voice to tremble a little.

“I know.”

When he _still_ didn’t manage to come up with anything else to say, she leapt off the bed and went straight for her dresser, starting to pick out clothes at random, with gestures that were brusque and incensed.

“You said you trusted me,” she spoke, keeping her back turned.

“I _do_.” His tone was almost pleading, now.

“Then maybe you could start proving it,” she challenged him in a thick voice, before stepping into her bathroom and closing the door shut behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely tried making them resolve this, guys, but they remained stubborn no matter what I did.
> 
> Feedback remains my very favourite thing ♥ Stay safe, my lovelies.
> 
> UPDATE (early August): I made it to France! Working on this! I'm pretty much writing the next 3 chapters right now so it's taking me a little longer ;-) Hoping to update around August 15.
> 
> In the meantime, comments certainly would help with my morale 😘 (Don't forget to subscribe to be notified when I do update!)


	19. Eeny Meeny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most times, adventuring through time and space is fun. Sometimes, not so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m baaaaaaaack! Thank you so much for your patience, and for your support during this hiatus. Part of why it’s taken me so long (beside Real Life taking over) is because I’ve been working on the entirety of this next adventure our idiots are about to get into, which spans over three chapters. The other two chapters are already in draft form, which means the next couple of updates should come a lot faster (as in, about once a week instead of every two months HAHAHA).
> 
> I know it’s been a while, so you may want to reread Chapter 18. If not, just to refresh your memory, the last chapter ended with Tentoo and Rose being interrupted by Ten while in the midst of ~things, which led to them parting ways somewhat grumpily, because the Doctor is an idiot.
> 
> The main plot points for this adventure have been heavily borrowed/reused from a favourite episode of mine in one of my very favourite shows called Fringe. If any of you have watched the show (WOOO!), you should pick up on it rather quickly. No regret, I’ve loved putting my three idiots into this specific ‘OH SHIT’ situation xD
> 
> Fair warning: this will get a bit tense. Expect vibes similar to Midnight and Waters of Mars. I tried keeping ‘upsetting’ descriptions to a minimum, but I’m putting a blood trigger warning on this chapter just to be safe.

**Chapter Nineteen – Eeny Meeny**

When Rose stepped out of her bathroom, the Doctor was gone.

He’d picked up the clothes she’d helped him discard a few hours ago, but he’d forgotten his glasses on her nightstand. She shoved them in her pocket, the prospect of him spending whatever trip they were about to take _squinting_ at everything more annoying than endearing.

The mere thought of him was annoying at this very moment.

Although the shower had cleaned her up and ‘calmed’ her down, it’d done very little to improve her mood. She’d had plenty of ups and downs since she’d been back on the TARDIS, but she’d never been quite this…

Frustrated? Annoyed? Fed up?

_Hurt_.

When it came down to it, that was the emotion trumping all the others; this was not an easy situation to navigate, but she’d somehow tricked herself into believing that she’d been handling it rather well, doing her best not to favour one of them over the other, trying to ensure they knew they both mattered to her. There was little she could do against the voices in their heads, though.

Right now, she was done being made to feel like an idiot by a couple of arrogant and insecure _arses_.

The other Doctor was alone in the control room when she made it in there; sprawled on the jumpseat with his feet on the console, his head was thrown back, balancing his sonic screwdriver on the tip of his nose – something she’d only seen him do when he was particularly bored.

“What?” she nearly barked by way of greeting, startling him out of his careful balancing act so abruptly that the sonic toppled off toward the ground.

He caught it before it touched the grating, showing off his superior reflexes yet again. When he straightened up and twisted in his seat to look at her, both his eyebrows were raised, surprised by the roughness of her entrance.

“What?” he parroted, his voice slightly more high-pitched than usual, sounding as taken aback as he looked.

He was not directly responsible for how she’d just parted ways with his counterpart, but that rational thought did very little to calm Rose; he _had_ requested their presence in the control room, after all.

He was also fully responsible for passing down his whole bloody personality to the other Doctor, making him into the infuriating mess that he was.

“You summoned me,” Rose reminded him, her tone as short and unfriendly as her choice of word, making it clear his call had not been a welcomed one.

His body language was quickly changing, his face closing off into the kind of expression that was a lot more sour, and not all that unfamiliar. He opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped himself, his glare fixed on a point behind her.

She became aware of the other Doctor’s presence in the corridor a mere instant before she glanced over her shoulder. Her instinct was to move further into the room, _away_ from him, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she stared at the ground, her heart already speeding up in renewed annoyance and a bit of something else.

(A whole bunch of ‘something elses’)

“What?” this Doctor asked the Time Lord, in a tone that was about as pleasant as Rose’s had been, and despite her unwillingness to look at him, she couldn’t help it, glancing back his way.

He’d obviously just showered himself, his hair slightly damp, dressed into a crisp, brown suit, his whole frame as locked as his counterpart’s.

Said counterpart was now glowering, the tense line of his jaw informing her that he was clenching his teeth, clearly not enjoying being snapped at by both of them. He shoved a hand in his pocket, extracting his psychic paper, before brandishing it in their general direction.

Rose was too far to make out the words, but she was familiar enough with the item to know what it meant.

“Zuitania,” he said. “The Exodus System, twenty-fourth century, so I’m assuming it has to do with one of the human colonies out there.” A pause. “If I’m being honest, I’m now debating whether or not I should go there alone.”

That last sentence was all it took to spark Rose’s irritation back into life. “And why’s that?”

She shivered when he fixed her with his trademark glare. “I’m not always the most perceptive person on this ship, but I’m not completely inept either. This isn’t going to be a tourist tour, which means I need you focused.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head. “Whatever quarrel the two of you just had, it’s obviously affecting your mood, and probably your judgment. You’ve made it repeatedly clear you can take care of yourself, and that I should refrain from taking decisions for you, but you can’t ask me not to worry about your safety when I know you’d be going into an unknown situation while distracted.”

He’d said all of that primarily to Rose, causing her anger to reach a dangerous level again. It urged her to snap in retaliation, reminding him just how much she didn’t like him taking the higher ground with her indeed.

Doing so would only prove his point, though. She was still rational enough to realise his concern was legitimate.

She turned her gaze on the other Doctor. He was not looking at either of them, still standing stiff with his hands in his pockets. The longer she stared at him, the more her frustration was shifting, making place for something more painful; she couldn’t stand this stifling tension between them, when less than an hour ago, she’d been closer to him than she’d ever been to any of them, the outside world temporarily shunned and forgotten as she hid in the warmth of their intimacy.

Until he’d let his insecurities get the better of him. _Again_.

She was willing to take her part of responsibility in this. Maybe she could have handled it better. Maybe she should have explained herself, explained how it would have been impossible for her to carry on with what they were doing while knowing _anyone_ was waiting for her, not just other versions of him.

She’d wanted this moment with him to be about _them_, not about them and distractions; she’d waited too long to let this become something rushed between two outings. And that was what hurt the most.

That his default reaction was to feel threatened by his counterpart’s existence, ruining the aftermath of something that had been _good_.

He may claim to love her, he didn’t trust her. Not in ways that mattered.

Rose swallowed past the lump in her throat, forcing herself to bury her pain as she looked back at the Time Lord Doctor, who was once again watching her, in a way that made it clear he was indeed a lot more perceptive about this than she gave him credit for.

She took another deep breath, before nodding shortly. “No distraction,” she declared. “I can be…professional about this.”

From the corner of her eyes, she saw the other Doctor tense even more at her words, but he gave a small nod of his own, remaining uncharacteristically quiet.

That was good enough for the Time Lord Doctor, who began explaining what was going on.

By the time they’d made the trip to the proper system, Rose had learned the most basic information about Zuitania; how the planet had been massively terraformed, and that at this point in time, it was on its way to becoming one of the most profitable planets in this part of the galaxy, in terms of agriculture alone. Had to do with the soil, apparently, something about the minerals in there helping plants grow five times faster than they did on Earth.

At least it explained the landscape.

They’d arrived in the middle of nowhere, the way it sometimes (often) happened with the TARDIS, surrounded by…

Corn. Or what looked like tall stalks of corn.

They trudged forward, the Time Lord Doctor leading the way, still chattering away about how good that soil was, delving into its molecular composition. It was all gibberish to Rose, who was simply grateful for his attempt at keeping silence at bay. As she followed him, her neck prickled steadily; she easily pictured the part-human Doctor right behind her, trying to pierce a hole in the back of her head with his stare.

She never rewarded him with a glance, though. He hadn’t been brave enough to look at her back in the control room; she wasn’t about to make things easy for him now.

They emerged onto some kind of path after a while, following it towards what looked like a town further down. They’d almost made it when the Doctor abruptly stopped, causing her to nearly walk into him.

The reason for his halt became obvious when she spotted the two armed soldiers a short distance away, a man and a woman.

“Identify yourself,” the woman ordered.

“The Doctor,” the Time Lord Doctor answered without hesitation, in the kind of jolly tone Rose wasn’t used to hearing anymore, especially considering all three of them had instinctively raised their hands at the sight of the weapons. “The Doctor,” he added. “And this is Rose Tyler.”

“How did you get here?” the man asked.

“Spatial dematerialisation,” the Doctor said, before tilting his head. “Well, rematerialisation, really. And even that’s a tad reductive.”

Both soldiers carried on staring at them, showing no sign of wanting to lower their weapons.

“We’re here to help,” Rose assured them. “We were told you might need it.”

“And who told you that, exactly?” the woman asked.

They both tensed when the Time Lord Doctor lowered one of his hands and reached inside his pocket, extracting his psychic paper, quickly holding it up open in front of him. They carefully stepped closer to read what it said; the look that crossed their faces was one Rose had witnessed too many times to count, watching as they glanced at each other.

While some people read the inscription out loud, these two didn’t. Whatever it read, it was enough to make them lower their weapons at last.

“We do have a situation,” the man said. “Back at the main research centre.”

“Can you take us there?”

Rose looked at the Human Doctor, who’d just said his first words since the control room.

The man opened his mouth to reply, but the woman raised a hand to stop him. “Not so fast. I still have no idea how you got there.”

“We’ve got a ship,” Rose said.

“I don’t see any ship.”

“We walked,” the Time Lord replied. “From the ship.” When the soldiers resumed their peering, his face broke into another expression Rose knew well. “_Ohhh_,” he exclaimed. “Twenty-fourth century, of course! You’ve been having some trouble with the Bahiris, haven’t you?”

Rose, who was used to being out of the loop on a regular basis, didn’t ask what he was talking about, the soldier’s glowers answer enough.

“We’re really here to help,” the Time Lord Doctor reassured them.

“That’s what the last group that infiltrated us said,” the woman told him. She seemed to think for a moment, and then: “I want to see your ship.”

“Bit of a waste of time, don’t you think?” the Time Lord asked.

“Not if it confirms you weren’t just dropped off by one of their units.”

There was another silence.

“I’ll take you there,” the Human Doctor offered, carrying on with being too quiet, not saying anything else.

“Let’s split up, then,” his counterpart said. “One of you go back to the TARDIS with my associate, here, while the other can lead me and Rose back to your research centre, what d’you say?”

The soldiers looked at each other, before nodding in agreement.

The Human Doctor had already started walking back the way they came, when Rose called after him.

He turned, and for the first time since they’d been together in her room, their eyes met.

She ignored the way her heart skipped a beat, walking to him, a hand in the pocket of her jacket. She stopped before she came too close, holding out his spectacles; his Adam’s apple went up, then down as he took them from her. He nodded in thanks, before propping them back where they belonged.

She opened her mouth to say something, maybe remind him to be careful and take care of himself, unable to keep her insides from squeezing painfully when their gazes met again through his lenses.

Then she remembered the look in his eyes only an hour ago, when he’d shut her out.

She closed her mouth without saying a word, which seemed to tell him enough. He averted his gaze, before nodding again, almost in defeat.

“Let’s go,” he told the woman.

Rose watched him walk away.

…

Although there were more pressing matters at hand, the Doctor was becoming increasingly curious about the nature of whatever was going on between the other two – even if he probably wouldn’t like what he’d find out.

It wouldn’t take much for him to figure it out either. His telepathic connection with Rose might be new, she was getting more and more responsive to his touch, always trusting and open whenever he initiated a bond; she never tried hiding anything from him, not even the moments she shared with this other _him_. He’d tried not to peek whenever their minds were connected, not just because it was bizarre and somewhat unpleasant.

He also recognised that they were entitled to some privacy.

Putting his hands on Rose to probe her mind just to satisfy his curiosity was therefore a big ‘no no’. Not that he would ever cave in to that kind of impulse, in any case. He prided himself for the fact that, generally speaking, he seemed to be better at staying in control of his emotions and urges…as opposed to the other two.

Thankfully, other things were occupying his thoughts, genuinely curious to find out what exactly was going on at that “research centre” they were now walking to, following Sean – who’d finally introduced himself.

The centre was built some distance from the town. It wasn’t tall, but wide, expanding outwards, the outside structure mainly made of glass; as they came closer, it became obvious that most of its inside was filled with plant life.

This was virtually one big greenhouse. At least it explained the increase in humidity and heat as soon as they stepped inside the building.

“This way,” Sean indicated, pointing towards the back of the entrance hall, leading them to a large staircase that would take them down.

They emerged through another large, half-circular area that seemed to serve as both a dining hall and a gateway to different parts of the building, judging by all the different doors at the back. Sean had made them stop at the bottom of the stairs, keeping them from seeing the entirety of the room. There were around twenty people sitting at different tables, and the atmosphere in the room immediately felt…off.

He sensed Rose tensing at his side, and when he glanced down at her, there was a small frown creasing her brow, as if she herself couldn’t quite put her finger on what felt off.

“Emma?” Sean called out towards one of the tables, where a few people were talking. One of the women looked up, quickly making her way to them when Sean beckoned her.

She was rather small, smaller than Rose, her hair looking like it was getting frizzier by the second in the humid air. There was tension in her, even before she spoke and he heard it in her voice. “What’s going on?”

“These people claim to be from the Special Health Committee,” Sean told her.

Emma frowned. “The SHC? Already?” She shook her head, more in confusion than in denial. “I only sent the alert through forty minutes ago, the main Guard hasn’t even arrived, yet, and they’re only two hundred kilometres away. How are you lot already here?”

“Ah, well, we’re known for being particularly swift!” the Doctor announced, more chipper than he felt, briefly brandishing his psychic paper again. “Hello, I’m the Doctor,” he continued, shoving the paper back in his pocket to extend his hand towards Emma, who took it with some reluctance. “And this is Rose Tyler.”

“Emma Jenkins,” Emma introduced herself as she shook Rose’s hand. “I’m the head scientist in this compound. Sorry if we’re all a bit wary, it’s been a rough few months.”

“I’ve heard the Bahiris haven’t made things easy for you,” the Doctor said, sympathetic.

“This definitely isn’t helping,” Emma said. “Some think it’s their doing, but…” She shook her head, swallowing hard. “It’s nothing like…like anything we’ve ever seen before.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly happened?” Rose asked, which caused Emma to frown again.

“Didn’t you see the pictures?”

“What’s in a picture, really,” the Doctor evaded. “So vague and…pixelated.”

Emma and Sean exchanged a look; all around the room, many of what he assumed were employees were looking their way in a mix of curiosity and wariness. He really did not like the general _vibe_ at all. These people were already on edge, and he had a feeling things were only going to get worse.

“I suppose it’d be quicker to just…show you the body,” Emma suggested.

It was the Doctor’s turn to exchange a look with Rose. 

“Indeed,” he agreed with a nod. “Allons-y!”

He expected her to lead them to take another area of the building, maybe through one of these doors at the back, already curious to find out more about what was behind these; they didn’t go quite that far, walking towards the other side of the room instead, everyone blatantly staring at them, now.

The way Rose froze before inhaling sharply through her nose informed him that she’d spotted the dead body, too. It’d been covered with a sheet of some kind, maybe a table cloth, but the nature of what was underneath was unmistakable; there was what appeared to be a large blood stain where their face was hidden.

The Doctor walked as close to the body as he dared, crouching as he got his specs out, carefully grabbing one of the top corners of the sheet, pulling to reveal the face underneath.

He heard Rose’s next loud inhale as he examined the body. The man’s face was lined with subcutaneous lesions; it was also covered with specks of dried blood. He used his sonic to scan the body, but it did not reveal much of anything, only confirming that this human was recently deceased.

“I presume quite a fair amount of blood sprayed out just before he died, or right at the moment of his death?” he asked.

“I…” Emma’s voice faltered. The Doctor looked away from the cadaver to look up at her, and she nodded. “It all happened so fast,” she said, her low voice shaking slightly. “We were in the middle of our lunch break. I wasn’t at his table, but when he collapsed, most of us gathered and tried helping. We thought his heart had stopped and then…” She swallowed hard. “It was like his skin…erupted. I’d never seen anything like this.”

“Yes, I would imagine it was rather gruesome,” the Doctor noted, already back to examining the dead man without actually making any kind of physical contact.

“What was his name?” Rose asked, taking a more empathetic approach to the questioning.

“Gavin Wilden,” Emma said, still subdued, but her voice was a little more steady. “One of our top researchers. A bit eccentric at times, but it’s not unusual in this field.” A pause. “We were just starting to lower our guard down after all the attacks, these last eighteen months. Today’s the first holiday most people have allowed themselves to take, that’s why so few of us are in. We’ve never seen anything like this.” She repeated. “Most deaths around here are caused by the usual ailments.”

The Doctor glanced up and around, noting the vents overhead, giving them a quick scan.

“You’ve shut down the air,” he stated more than he asked, looking back at Emma.

“Standard protocol,” Emma replied. “Bit useless since all of us working today were already in this room and I kept everyone in here ever since it happened, but…”

“You did well,” the Doctor told her. “Without knowing what caused his death, it’s best not to let anything…spread.” He got back up on his feet, tucking his spectacles away as he peered across the room at the people talking between them. “How many were close enough to get blood on them?”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t know. I made everyone wash up afterwards.”

The Doctor nodded. “The greenhouses upstairs, I assume you’ve got soil or sand of some kind in there?” Emma nodded in turn. “I’d get a couple of your people to bring a bag down, cover Gavin’s body with it.”

“Do you think it’s contagious?” Emma asked.

“Too early to tell,” the Doctor said, truthfully. “Better safe than sorry, though.” He looked back down at the body. “Was he showing any symptom before he died?”

“Some said he looked poorly, like he’d caught one of the bugs that go around every once in a while. Apparently his mood was a bit off, but nothing alarming. Sheila said he had a nose bleed before lunch, too.”

The Doctor didn’t know who Sheila was, but he already knew she was amongst the first employees he wanted to talk to.

“I’m not a medical doctor,” Emma continued, the guilt unmistakable in her voice. “None of us are. Our main focus is agricultural research and advancement.”

“It’s not your fault,” Rose reassured her. “You already did the best you could, keeping everyone together and requesting help.”

Emma nodded.

“This might just be an isolated incident,” the Doctor added. “I’d like to see the security feed, though.” He’d noticed the cameras overhead. “Might help us figure out what it is.” Emma nodded again. “We came here with someone else,” the Doctor added. “Someone who could bring over some testing equipment. He went back to our ship with one of your…guards. Any way for us to contact her?”

“Abby?” Emma asked.

“Not sure,” Rose admitted. “About my height, long braid, big gun?”

Emma almost smiled. “That would be Abby,” she confirmed, already getting her phone out. “She also happens to be my wife.”

…

After some grunting, an even greater amount of glaring, and _plenty _of nagging, the Doctor managed to get his security detail to give him her name.

Abby remained monosyllabic through their walk to the TARDIS. He didn’t let that stop him, though, taking over the endless chatter his original self had started earlier. She was altogether rather distrustful of him and his extensive knowledge of the planet, including everything regarding the heated situation they were currently in with one of the species from this system.

He did agree with his counterpart; this was all kind of pointless and a waste of time, but the truth was, he could use the distraction. A distraction _away_ from Rose was even better.

He’d been absolutely miserable from the moment she left him alone in her room.

He would agree to do just about anything if it meant he didn’t have to think about the look on her face before she’d stepped into that bathroom, or about the fact that they were unable to exchange two words to each other, let alone maintain eye contact, when less than two hours ago…

Nope.

Distraction was the only way to go.

Nothing ever distracted him quite like witnessing someone new discovering his TARDIS, watching as Abby stared at it with renewed scepticism. “Am I supposed to believe you’ve come here in a box?”

The Doctor smiled his ‘_you sweet thing’_ smile, walking up to the door to unlock it, before opening it and stepping inside. “Come on in,” he called out.

He stood a few steps away from the entrance, hands shoved in his pockets as Abby carefully came inside. For the first time since he’d ‘met’ her and her weapon, her face slackened in genuine surprise, and a bit of that awe he never tired of seeing on people’s faces.

“It’s…bigger on the inside,” she noted.

“So I’ve heard,” he replied, wise(ass)ly. “This ship’s a bit of a special one. Can travel through both space and time, you see, which is how I’ve come to know so much about this planet. Well, for the most part.”

She frowned. “For the most part?”

“Well,” he said again with a sweeping tilt of his head. “I also happen to be quite smart and knowledgeable in my own right.”

Her scowl was already back. “You forgot to say ‘big-headed’.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by a beeping noise, coming from what turned out to be Abby’s phone.

She picked up the call. “Hey,” she greeted , before frowning, handing him off the phone. “It’s for you.”

It was his turn to frown, bringing the device to his ear. “Hello?”

“I need you to bring in everything you can to safely collect some blood samples,” his counterpart told him without any kind of preamble. “Bring the TARDIS closer, too, we’re gonna need her to perform some testing.”

“What’s going on?”

“Not sure yet. Someone died a couple hours ago. Most of the blood vessels in his face kind of erupted.”

The Doctor thought for a second. “Vasculitis?”

“Could be,” his counterpart said. “Or some extreme form of arteriovenous fistula. Can’t rule out anything without proper testing, though. Might be pathogenic.”

This, obviously, would be the worst case scenario.

“Very well. Give me six minutes.” He hung up, handing the phone back to Abby before springing towards the console, quickly entering the coordinates that should take them closer to the building. “You may want to hold on to something, this part can be a bit rough.”

“What the – ” she started, but was interrupted by the TARDIS coming into life, _whooshing_ loudly; within the next seven seconds Abby had fallen onto the gratings, arse first.

Unlike Rose, who’d always find getting a bruised bum to be rather amusing, Abby did not look that amused.

“I need to grab some supplies,” he told her, unfazed by her glower. “Be back in a tick!”

When he came back less than two minutes later, having gathered everything they needed in a bag, Abby had stepped out. She hadn’t gone far, finding her examining both the outside of the ship and their surroundings, looking more lost by the second.

When she realised he’d joined her outside, she fixed him with a kind of queasy grimace. “We moved,” she noted. “In a box.”

“That we did,” he said. “Takes some getting used to. Some people do get ill after their first trip.”

This seemed to offend her. “I’m not gonna puke,” she stated.

“Good on you!” he said, looking around. They _had_ moved closer, although they were still a hundred metres or so from the centre, half-concealed in corns. “Off we go, then.”

Abby still being affected by her brief time on the TARDIS, he was the one leading them to the building. As they came closer, he noticed through its glass walls that someone was inside the lobby, making their way to the front door in something of a hurry. He didn’t think much of it, until he came close enough to see the man’s face.

The Doctor leapt to the door, grabbing at the handle just as the man did the same, keeping him from opening it. His free hand had already grabbed for his sonic, zapping it and sealing the door shut.

He looked up just in time to watch in mild disgust and fascination as the swelling lines on the man’s face erupted, spraying blood all over the glass door.

“Holy shit,” Abby spoke behind him.

The Doctor stared as the man crumbled to the floor, dead.

“I need your phone,” he said, his voice having dropped half an octave. “Now.”

…

Sean took them deeper into the building to show them the security footage, while Emma went back to talk to her colleagues, and probably reassure them about the Doctor and Rose’s presence and intentions. While the ground floor appeared to be made primarily of greenhouses, the underground part of it was made in part of research labs and offices.

They didn’t gain much from the footage, except for a more detailed picture of what had happened to Gavin Wilden. No obvious clue about what had caused his death, unfortunately.

“Let’s talk to some of these people,” the Doctor told Rose as they walked back to the hall. “Find out what they saw, especially before he died.”

And talk they did; Rose was as amicable as ever, having learned at a young age that a smile and a sympathetic attitude worked best on most people, especially on people who were rather tensed. They seemed to accept the fact that they were from the ‘SHC’ without questioning it, most of them understandably shaken by what they’d witnessed a couple of hours ago, and concerned about what it might mean for _their _health.

“When are we going to be let out?” was the question they’d asked _her_ the most, to which she unfortunately had no answer.

Rose had been going around talking to people for about ten minutes when she heard Emma calling for the Doctor, turning to see him walk to her, accepting the phone she was holding out, assuming his counterpart was calling back. The look on his face was enough to let her know he was not delivering good news, quickly making her way to him, just as he started retelling what he was being told.

“Someone sneaked out to the lobby,” he said, quietly enough so that only Emma and Rose could hear. “They’re dead. Same as Gavin.” He turned his gaze on Rose. “We need to make a list of everyone in here, and quarantine this building.”

Rose swallowed hard but nodded, listening as the Doctor resumed his conversation with his other self. From the one side of the conversation she could hear, they agreed for the other Doctor to use the victim in the lobby to get some blood sample, as long as he took the proper precautions. Any part of the underground building was to be put on lockdown.

Throughout this short conversation, Rose felt a growing urge to ask for the phone so she could talk to him, too. She wanted to ensure he was all right, and remind him not to do anything stupid while stuck on his own. She never worked up the nerves to do it, though; after the way they’d parted, earlier, she wasn’t even sure he’d want to talk to her.

“Who was it?” was Emma’s first question. “The person who died?”

“According to your wife, someone named Lloyd.”

Emma thought about it. “I don’t think he was even standing close to Gavin when he…” She couldn’t finish her sentence, her pale skin turning grey. “We could all be infected.”

“We don’t know that,” the Doctor said, his voice low, yet adamant. “But we can’t rule out a contagion either, not anymore.” He looked around the room. “These stairs, they’re the only way out of the building?”

Emma shook her head. “They’re the only way up to the main lobby, but there are more stairs within the building. They all lead to the greenhouses upstairs, but there are exit doors in some of them.”

The Doctor nodded, before looking around at the other people in the room, many of which were trying to listen in their conversation, clearly aware that something _else_ was going on.

“We need to talk to them,” Rose told him, and he nodded again.

Next instant, he’d stepped up, quite literally, hopping onto the closest table, already calling for everyone’s attention, until every pair of eyes was fixed on him.

“Hello, good afternoon,” he spoke from his perch. “For those of you still wondering, I’m the Doctor, and this is Rose Tyler. We’ve come here to help with the…incident that took place earlier.”

“When are you gonna let us out?” one of the women called out.

“Unfortunately, not for some time,” the Doctor admitted, which caused a renewed wave of whispers. “I’m sorry to inform you that another one of your co-workers just died in similar circumstances, which means we have to quarantine this building.”

As it was to be expected, the amount of talking peaked at these words, until he raised his hands in a calming gesture, waiting until they all quieted down again.

“I know this is stressful, but I’ll have to ask you to remain calm while I try explaining what’s going on. Panicking would only make things worse for all of us.” When he was certain everyone was listening, he continued: “We have no way of knowing yet if the deaths of your colleagues are contagious in nature, but we cannot take any risk. In cases like this one, we have to think about the larger population, and what would happen if what’s in here was to spread outside.”

“Is that why you’ve got an armed guard over there?” someone else shouted, having stood up from their chair. “To shoot us like dogs if anyone else tries going upstairs?”

“Now now,” the Doctor tried to soothe him. “No one is getting shot.”

“Just sit down, Jeff,” Sean told him from where he stood indeed, at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re a bright lad, you know I won’t do anything with that gun unless you give me a good reason to.”

This wasn’t exactly reassuring, but Jeff sat back down, looking like he might like to try anyway.

“Situations like these are never easy,” the Doctor resumed, “but more help is on its way. I also have an associate outside already looking into finding a way to test who’s infected, so that people who aren’t can be let out. In the meantime, I’m happy to answer any question you have, as best as I can.”

A dozen hands immediately shot up. As Rose scanned the room, she noticed one of the women she’d talked to earlier – Alice, she believed her name was. In the last few minutes, her skin had become waxy and shiny with perspiration.

Her nose was bleeding.

There were two other people at her table, and they’d noticed, too. Rose made the decision to go to her before they could start a panic; although the Doctor had carried on and was now answering questions, she had no doubt he’d noticed her walking away and towards that specific table.

“Alice, right?” she asked as she joined her, and the woman nodded; her eyes were glassy and feverish. “Why don’t you come with me?” she suggested, resisting the urge to put a comforting hand on her to guide her, as touching someone possibly infected would not be the best thing to do.

Thankfully, Alice got up and let herself be led away.

“Is she infected?” someone else in the room shouted. “Is she gonna die?”

“Her nose is bleeding!”

Rose ignored the shouts, directing Alice towards one of the doors that would take them deeper into the building, having spotted a loo nearby when they’d followed Sean, earlier.

“Why don’t you wash your face off with cold water?” she suggested when they stepped in there, and Alice simply nodded again, walking to one of the sinks to do just that. “How are you feeling?” Rose asked after a long stretch of silence.

Alice didn’t say anything at first, simply standing there with water dripping from her face, blood still slowly oozing out of her nose. “I’d like to go outside,” she eventually said, almost dreamily.

“I know,” Rose said. “And you will, once we get everything sorted. We all will.”

The door to the restrooms opened, and the Doctor’s head popped in. “A word, please?”

She followed him out of the room. “How are they coping in there?” she asked, indicating the door leading back to the hall.

“Not well,” he said with a displeased scowl. “Paranoia’s setting in, and Jeff and I aren’t going to become best mates. He’s already suggested we should ‘take care’ of anyone showing any kind of symptoms. Blimey, I’m really not that impressed with the human’s survival instinct, these days.” When Rose frowned, he waved a dismissive hand. “No matter. How is she?”

Rose shook her head. “She seems a bit out of it. She’s got a lot of the symptoms people talked about when I asked about Gavin.”

The door to the restroom opened again, and Alice stepped out. The nosebleed appeared to have stopped, but she looked feverish and sickly.

“Why don’t I take you into that office right there?” Rose offered. “You can lie on a couch and try to rest, yeah?” She glanced at the Doctor, who nodded shortly.

The door to the hall opened as Rose started guiding Alice towards the office, further down the corridor, Emma half stepping out of the hall. “Two more people just started having nosebleeds,” she announced.

That one second Rose spent paying more attention to what Emma was saying than to the woman she was walking with was one second too many.

Without any warning, Alice took off _running_.

Once again, Rose didn’t think, following her instincts, which told her to _run_, too, sprinting after her, already hearing the Doctor calling out her name.

Alice was faster than she’d expected her to be, clearly at an advantage as she knew this building and Rose didn’t, taking a couple of unexpected sharp turns. Before long, Alice was running up a flight of stairs, Rose at her heels, until they were bursting into a greenhouse, the hot and humid air immediately filling up her lungs.

It didn’t take Rose long to understand what the woman was aiming for, spotting an exit door at the very far end of the room.

“Stop!” Rose called after her.

“I have to get out!” she screamed. “I have to get outside!”

Rose had _almost _caught up with her. Alice was fast, but Rose had trained for years, the adrenaline now pumping furiously through her veins.

“Rose, _don’t_,” the Doctor shouted, as close behind her as she was to Alice, and she ignored his command as she had many times before.

She tackled Alice a mere second before she reached the door, the fall knocking the air out of her lungs. The commotion did not end there; there was a wet sound, followed by the sensation of something warm touching her skin, just as she was violently pulled back and thrown to the side, until she was landing hard onto her side, pain erupting in her shoulder.

Rose clutched at it as she turned over on the ground, finding the Doctor staring at her as he hovered over Alice’s unmoving form, his eyes wide and incensed.

His face was splattered with blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say this would be split up in three parts. I’d say you can expect at least one more cliffhanger before I’m done with this :p Remember to subscribe to this story if you haven’t yet ;-)
> 
> I have sorely missed hearing from you, lovely readers, so any feedback would be absolutely delightful ♥


	20. Miny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have to get worse before they get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t want to bring more attention to a certain comment that was left on the last chapter, because I think that person already got more time in the spotlight than they deserve, but I can’t simply ignore it either. I wanted to thank all of you who stepped up, not only to defend me, but to defend LGBTQIA+ people as a whole. Like I said to that person, I happen to be gay myself. I am also myopic, a cat lover, and a Pisces. Hopefully none of these things are too offensive *sarcasm* I’m not too worried, as I know for a fact after spending seventeen years posting fics online that 99% of you reading my stories are beautiful, tolerant human beings.
> 
> To the other 1% out there who unfortunately tries to spread ignorance and hatred: any further comment of the sort will be deleted without getting any response from me or my fierce readers, so don’t even bother.
> 
> On with the crazy contagion, then! If anything else, whenever the situation feels a little bleak and hopeless, tell yourself what I keep telling myself as I write these terrible things: _one chapter closer to the smut._

**Chapter Twenty – Miny**

There was more than one way to enter or leave a building.

Truth be told, anyone who never bothered pondering about these ways and simply used the front door without giving it any other thought was a bit lame by default.

The Doctor prided himself for how skilled he’d become at finding alternative routes in or out of places over the last few centuries. Granted, most of the situations that had forced him to figure ‘something out’ in the nick of time hadn’t exactly been by choice, but the end result was the same.

More than one way to skin a cat.

Well.

Maybe not an _actual_ cat. Cats might not be amongst his favourite animals, it didn’t mean he’d ever spent any time thinking extensively about skinning them either.

“Are you gonna be able to tell what this thing is?” Abby asked him, forcing him out of his own head.

They were back in his TARDIS. For a while, all of his focus had been directed towards how to safely collect a sample of blood from poor Lloyd without actually _entering_ the lobby; now that he’d succeeded with that, most of his brain power was once again being directed towards thinking up every single way this situation could get worse, if this…_thing_ wasn’t properly contained.

A lot of these thoughts happened to revolve around one particular person, now trapped inside that building.

_I can be professional about this_, Rose had said, only a couple of hours ago.

The initial hurt these words had caused him had dimmed, to be replaced by the growing realisation that…he wasn’t sure _he_ could be professional about this, at all. It was one thing to be temporarily separated from the others while he fetched some equipment.

It was another one altogether to be left out here on his own while the other two were trapped inside a facility plagued with a deadly virus.

“Doctor?”

Abby brought him back to himself again, reminding him that he wasn’t entirely alone.

He’d always been rather good at _pretending_ to be fine; unfortunately, like so many other aspects of himself these days, becoming part human had put a small dent in his ability to control his own emotional state.

He’d only spent a short time with Abby, but that was enough for him to tell she was the kind of person who was usually good at putting on a façade, too; he suspected he wasn’t the only one who had someone they cared about inside that building, her demeanour having shifted somewhat since they’d realised what was going on inside.

“If I can isolate a strain from this blood sample, then I might be able to identify it,” he finally answered, entering a sequence of numbers into the centrifuge he’d dragged into the control room. “Hopefully enough to understand how this virus behaves.”

His answer only seemed to make Abby more sceptical, judging by the look on her face. “How it…behaves,” she repeated.

“Viruses are one of this universe’s biggest oddities,” he said, punching at the side of the clunky machine when it started rattling, as if in protest at being used again after a couple of decades. “Not alive in the strictest sense of the term, yet they are particularly vicious when it comes to replicating themselves in order to ensure their survival. They’re parasites, nearly always killing the host they inhabit. But before they do, they will sometimes alter their host’s behaviour in the strangest of ways, whatever it takes to keep on spreading.”

The centrifuge gave out a series of loud beeps, along with some puffs of smoke, before spewing out a lot more paper than it needed to, given what little information it had to offer.

“What?” Abby asked, not even trying to hide the concern from her voice, his expression apparently giving too much away.

“It’s – ”

The Doctor was interrupted by a new flurry of sounds, coming from outside this time, having left the TARDIS’s door opened. It was his turn to frown at the look on Abby’s face, who already seemed to know what was causing the noise.

“What?” he parroted.

She swallowed hard, her face even paler than it’d been a minute ago.

“Here comes the cavalry,” she announced, bleakly.

She didn’t need to say more for the Doctor to understand that whatever ‘help’ had just arrived, it wouldn’t be the kind that patiently waited for ‘science’ to happen, when it came to dealing with deadly, contagious viruses.

He wasn’t wrong.

…

While Rose had first come to know this incarnation of the Doctor as someone who had an impressive gob and a certain inability for _shutting up_, the man she’d found again after years apart had been somewhat more withdrawn, prone to regular bouts of mute brooding.

She’d rarely known him to be quite _this_ silent, though. And it wasn’t just that he wasn’t talking.

There was an air of fury about him when he finally moved and bent down to grab her, pulling her up to her feet. A groan escaped her as a result from his rough handling, pain throbbing through her sore shoulder. She barely had time to see his face up close, to stare at the droplets of blood trickling down his skin, made more obnoxious by the paleness of his skin, before he was making her move.

They didn’t go far, the Doctor already stopping, releasing her to grab what looked like a hose, usually used to water plants. She didn’t have to wonder if what she’d felt on her skin a few moments ago had been blood, understanding what he was about to do a mere second before he did it.

He turned the water on, immediately directing the spray towards her, splashing her face with ice-cold water. Although she couldn’t help shrieking at the sensation, she let him spray her down, aware that this was their best shot, waiting for him to turn the spray on himself.

He didn’t, hearing him speak over the noise of the water instead. “We need some soap. And spare clothes, if you have them.”

Rose squinted through the water, only now noticing the silhouettes nearby, a few people having followed them inside the greenhouse, although she couldn’t make out their faces.

“Grab that bag of soil and cover the body with it,” the Doctor was now ordering. “Try and stay as far from it as possible. Don’t touch it.”

There were movements as they all did as they were told, but all Rose could think about was how the Doctor had _yet_ to start cleaning his bloody face off. She forced her limbs to work, stepping closer to him to grab at the hose. He opposed some resistance when he realised what she was doing, but he quickly loosened his grasp, enough to let her take control.

Her hands covered his over the hose as she rinsed his face off, and some of his emotions oozed through their weak bond, dimmed but genuine; she felt his concern for her, along with a deep-seated kind of irritation.

When he tightened his grip again to regain control, she let him; he quickly dropped the hose at their feet, Rose’s teeth already chattering, despite the heat of the place.

“Clothes off,” he told her, even as he discarded his jacket, pulling on his tie next to loosen it.

She did not argue, peeling off her soggy layers of clothes, trying not to stare at him as he did the same, but she found it hard not to. In spite of everything that had happened – including what she’d been doing with his counterpart only hours ago – she’d never actually seen him without at least two or three layers of clothes on.

Not that he gave her much of a chance to ogle him, grabbing the hose again as soon as she’d stripped down to her underwear, causing her to let out another displeased noise. Someone had already come back, and they were both handed a bar of soap, making a quick do of lathering themselves up, before rinsing it all off.

Rose was grateful for the thin towels they were given, next, cold to her bones, now. She dried herself up as best as she could, before putting on the pair of plain coveralls they’d been given, clearly meant for workers, only half-listening to what the Doctor was saying to the others. The next time she properly refocused on him, they were alone in the greenhouse; he was dressed in similar clothes, which were too short on him, showing off a good chunk of his ankles, a sight that was almost absurd – and almost as troubling as seeing him nearly naked had been.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked, fixing her with a hard stare.

_Warm_ was the first word that came to her mind.

She’d tried her best to keep herself unharmed these last few years, keen to avoid any situation where she’d have to explain why her most serious wounds were healing faster than they should, but she’d experienced this enough time to recognise the sensation. It felt as if she’d applied some soothing balm to the injured area, just…deeper.

“Healing,” she eventually said, still shivering as the rest of her body tried warming itself up. When he simply carried on staring, his brow set as low as it could get, she shook her head. “You don’t have to say it. I know it was stupid.”

He inhaled sharply through his nose. “And yet you did it anyway. _Again_.” His tone was even more condescending when he added: “I knew it wasn’t a good idea, taking you with me.”

This was _not_ the thing to say – and he knew that, too.

Implying that she’d been too distracted to act sensibly was the fastest way to make her frustration flare up again, as if it’d ever gone anywhere. Had she been any calmer, and less freaked out about the fact that they’d just been sprayed with _infected blood,_ Rose might have simply argued back, the way she usually did.

She skipped the arguing altogether, today, going straight for the next phase of being properly pissed off – which, in this case, involved deciding she ought to do something even _more_ stupid, since that was all he was expecting from her anyway.

When she took off at a fast walk, back the way they’d run up only minutes ago, she ignored how he repeatedly called her name, even as he followed her down. Blood was pulsing against her ears, and the heat that had been localised in her shoulder seemed to have spread to her face and chest, as if in a physical manifestation of her anger.

She burst through the hall, ignoring everyone in there, going straight from the more isolated area of the room where Gavin’s body lay beneath the stained sheet – and a recently added layer of sand.

She was already pulling on the sheet when the Doctor grabbed her arm. “Rose, no!”

She tried shaking his grip off, but he was holding on tight, this time. “Let go of me!” she ordered him, eyes blazing, genuinely considering using the heel of her hand on his nose if he didn’t.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to read her mind to realise what she was about to do, releasing her before it came to that.

“This is near suicidal!” he hissed in fury, his pale face twisted in pure frustration and concern. “You can’t touch this body.”

“I’m already exposed!” she snapped back. “And so are you. We’ve got, what, maybe an hour before we start losing it, too? ‘m not gonna spend it curled up in a corner, crying about how scared I am.”

His teeth were clenched, his gaze dark, all warning signs about how incensed he was. “Who said anything about curling up in a corner,” he said more than he asked, his voice deeper than usual. “We can be useful without putting ourselves at risk more than we already have.”

She stared up at him, unwilling to back down. His reactions came from a place of concern for her, but they’d already argued long enough about this, _repeatedly_.

“We’re all entitled to our own survival instinct,” she told him. “So I get it if you’d rather stay back, on the off chance that you didn’t get infected up there, ‘cause let’s be honest, you probably didn’t, superior physiology and all that. But we both know ‘m never that lucky. So I’m gonna search his body, and look for anything that can help us figure out what got to him before everyone in this facility dies, or before someone gets out and infects the entire population.”

There must have been a time when she had been intimidated by his ‘Oncoming Storm’ glare, but that time was long gone.

He stared at her for a few more seconds, before he moved, crouching down and pulling the rest of the sheet off.

“Don’t touch anything you don’t need to touch,” he instructed her, not in his friendliest of tones.

Even covered as the body was, there was still a distinctive metallic smell coming off it, causing Rose’s stomach to turn, as she did her best not to think about how _this_ was the kind of fate that awaited her if she was indeed infected.

“This isn’t safe!”

Rose didn’t even look at Emma, who’d just joined them again, now that they were done arguing.

“Someone’s gotta do it,” Rose replied as she and the Doctor prodded Gavin’s clothes through the sand. “How are the others?”

“Worried and scared,” Emma said. “We now have three people with symptoms. I’ve made them sit as far away from the stairs as possible, and away from the group, but if they all decide to make a go for the doors and rush upstairs like Alice did…”

“I can lock these doors,” the Doctor said – or rather grumbled; Rose glanced at him, only now realising that he’d salvaged his sonic screwdriver from his clothes upstairs.

She half-expected him to stand up and go do as he’d said, leaving her here to prod the dead body on her own. He didn’t budge, though, merely speaking her name in disapproval again when she sneaked a hand under the body to reach for Gavin’s back pockets.

It paid off, her fingers closing around something small and cold in one of these pockets.

She pulled the key out, and they all stared at it for a moment.

“We need to see Gavin’s workspace,” the Doctor told Emma.

…

The Main Guard had brought four certified medical doctors with them – whatever that meant.

Although they’d all given him their names at some point, they’d quickly become ‘Grumpy’, ‘Jumpy’, ‘Lazy’ and ‘Potentially Helpful’ in the Doctor’s mind.

Having now been forced to work with people he did not know and who were more of a hindrance than a help, his only consolation at the moment was that the situation had not yet turned into an actual massacre.

That, he owed to Abby.

He himself never had much patience for grunts, and the ones that had taken over the place in less than three and a half minutes did not exactly made a first good impression when they said things such as:

“The risk of global contagion is too great, we can’t risk this spreading to the local population. We might need to get inside and deal with the threat before it gets out.”

The Doctor understood that these people were on edge, after months of conflict with the Bahiris, which meant that they were particularly quick to jump to the worst possible conclusion, but being told that innocent people might have to be sacrificed ‘for the greater good’ without even _trying_ something else first was never acceptable.

Hence him letting Abby talk; these were people she knew, affected by factors she herself had been living through for months. She’d gone as far as getting their ‘General’ to listen to the Doctor, long enough for him to agree to delay sending guards in.

They were big on guns, but were unfortunately lacking on anything resembling hazmat suits, which kept them out. They still managed to safely extract Lloyd’s body from the entrance of the lobby, before setting up a proper airlock.

The Doctor had been forced to work (and argue, repeatedly) with the Fantastic Four on analysing the different blood samples for about ten minutes when _something_ _else_ happened. From inside the makeshift tent that had been set up for them to work, the Doctor saw the guards rushing around the other side of the building, bringing more material with them.

More guns, too.

He left the tent to go find Abby, who was being kept in the loop a lot more than he was.

“Someone almost got out through one of the back doors,” she told him, grimly. “They’re gonna seal them all off, now.”

This did very little to improve the Doctor’s mood, his instincts telling him that whatever had happened, there was no way Rose and his counterpart hadn’t somehow been involved in this.

“More than one way to skin a cat,” he found himself saying, and when Abby gave him an odd look, he shook his head, already turning around to walk back towards the tent. “Someone’s gonna get out,” he stated. “It’s just a question of ‘when’.”

Or whom.

…

Before they followed Emma to Gavin’s office, the Doctor took the time to zap at every other door that led inside the building, save for the one they were about to use.

He sternly ignored everybody else in the room, especially those shouting questions at them or making comments, actually managing to shut Jeff down in the middle of one of his rants with just a glare.

After Emma showed them to the office space Gavin had shared with three other people, the Doctor told her she could go back to the hall.

She seemed reluctant to leave, though.

“We’re fine,” he assured her. “Even if we’re infected, it’s too early for us to try making a run for it. We’ll be back in five minutes. Six, at the most. If we’re not, come back with a few people and drag us out.”

Personally, Rose did not find this particularly reassuring, but it was enough for Emma, who did leave them alone. Within seconds, the Doctor’s sonic was blaring.

“Not your greatest pep talk,” Rose noted, already looking through the pile of papers that littered Gavin’s desk.

“Not our greatest matching outfits either,” he replied without even cracking a smile, now scanning Gavin’s workspace. “I’m learning to lower my expectations, I suggest you do the same.”

He frowned, then, letting out a thoughtful noise, not offering her any kind of explanation before he dropped to the ground and disappeared under Gavin’s desk, his long legs sticking out, showing-ankles and all.

“Come here,” he called out half-a-minute later, the sound of his voice muffled by his position.

Frowning in turn, Rose lowered herself, peering at what she could see of him under the desk – which wasn’t much.

“I need your hands,” he told her. “There’s something under there. Can’t get to it while keeping that compartment open.”

Rose joined him with some difficulty; at least her shoulder wasn’t even sore anymore, allowing her to move without unnecessary pain. She may be flexible, this space was way too small to accommodate two grown people, forcing the amount of contact between their bodies to increase significantly.

The lack of light meant she couldn’t see his face, even close as they were, but she could hear him breathe. Feel it, too, as she leaned in closer to try and get to the compartment he’d mentioned, unable to keep herself from shivering at the rush of air against her skin.

“Here.” He grabbed her hand to direct her.

His skin was slightly warmer than usual, yet there was nothing unusual about the way this small touch caused her to shiver again, the way she always did whenever one of them touched her.

This was _really_ not the time to be thinking about this, especially when it caused her thoughts to focus on the other Doctor, who’d yet to be informed of what had happened. Whenever she thought about him, her insides twisted in concern, unable not to worry about what he was up to, out there.

Which was why she was doing her best _not_ to think about him, their current situation bad enough as it was. If anything else, Rose was grateful for the fact that _this_ Doctor hadn’t initiated a bond, despite the contact between their skins; her thoughts and emotions were scattered enough without adding his to the mix.

It only took her a couple of seconds to find the place he’d been trying to reach, sticking her hand in there with some additional arm contortion, until her fingers closed around something cold again – much bigger than a key this time.

“Got it,” she breathed out, before pulling the object from its hiding place. Moments later, she was extracting herself from under the desk, swiftly followed by the Doctor, who sprang back to his feet even faster.

They stared down at the contraption, which appeared to be a thin, long box, with a lock on top. The Doctor scanned it, scowling at whatever results he got from his readings.

“Is it safe to unlock it?” she asked.

When he looked back at her, she couldn’t help noticing his eyes looked a bit…glassy.

Might just be a trick of the light after spending a couple of minutes under that desk, though.

“Only one way to find out,” he answered.

…

“I’ve got some good news and some bad news,” his original self announced the next time they spoke on the phone, and just from his tone alone, the Doctor knew the bad news would be _bad_.

“Same here,” he said.

“You first.”

He didn’t even try to argue. “From the tests we were able to run, this virus doesn’t appear to be airborne, so as long as you all stir away from any kind of body fluid, you should be relatively safe. The bad news is, reinforcement showed up, and their initial suggestion was to go in all guns blazing. They’ve agreed to give me more time to figure out what this is, but I’m not sure how much I can do with what I have.”

“We’ve just found something that might help you,” his counterpart said. “From what we were told by the head scientist, it looks like some kind of soil sample, possibly the source of the contagion. With some luck, it won’t be something completely new, so getting a cure ready won’t be as difficult.”

This was clearly his good news.

“And?” the Doctor urged him.

“And…” He paused. “There’s been an incident.”

From the way he said these words, he knew Rose’s name was going to come up, a realisation that caused his stomach to turn to stone.

“Someone infected nearly escaped using a back door in one of the greenhouses,” he announced.

“I know,” he said, heart thumping. “The Guards have already sealed these doors.”

Silence.

“_And?_” he pressed again.

“And well, you know Rose,” he said at last. “She tried stopping the infected person, I tried stopping her…didn’t work out too well. We both got exposed, about fifteen minutes ago.”

He said something else after that, but the Doctor wasn’t registering his words anymore.

He’d already stepped out of the makeshift tent, his eyes once more fixed on the front of the building, with its airlock and armed guards, thinking about the backdoors that had just been sealed.

_More than one way to skin a cat._

“Doctor?”

He didn’t even realise his counterpart wasn’t on the phone anymore, until the sound of her voice stopped him in his tracks, his focus instantly drawn back to the call, suddenly too aware of the way his heart was thumping against his ears.

“Are you all right?” he asked at once, his voice embarrassingly hoarse.

“I’m…fine,” Rose said, somewhat breathless. “No symptom yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

That was _not_ what he was asking, but he was unfortunately incapable of formulating a proper response at the moment, still unable to think properly, now walking around the facility. His brain appeared to have been hijacked, obsessed with one single thought.

This was a big building. Big buildings had air vents.

Air vents had _exits_.

“Listen,” Rose was talking again. “Don’t try coming in.”

For the second time in less than a minute, the Doctor was brought to a stop by her voice. “What?” he asked, scanning the inside of the greenhouse closest to him, almost expecting to find Rose standing in there, watching him already trying to sneak inside.

She was nowhere to be seen, though, still unreachable, trapped in a part of this building that was forbidden to him.

She simply happened to know him a little too well.

“I know how your mind works,” she confirmed. “Especially when I’m – ” She stopped herself, before taking in a breath that was a bit wobbly. “You know.” A pause. “’It’s too dangerous, and you know it.”

He didn’t say anything to that, only managing a shaky exhale of his own, before she continued:

“We’re trapped in here, and there’s not much more we can do about it, now. But you’re out there. You’ve got your TARDIS, and that big brain of yours, which gotta be on overdrive right now. So whatever urge you’ve got to…sneak in through a backdoor or something, you’ve got to fight it, yeah?”

The Doctor closed his eyes, his heart having gone from thumping in his ears to being lodged in his throat, rubbing at his forehead as he let out a sigh. “I just…” he tried, and failed.

“I know,” she replied anyway, as if he’d said something meaningful.

But he hadn’t.

He was just floundering again, unable to talk to her, to tell her what he needed to say, just like earlier today, back in her room, when his stupidity and silence had caused her to run from him.

His timing had always been deplorable, and today was no different; now was not the time, but he _had_ to try.

“Rose, listen, about earlier – ”

“Don’t,” she cut him off. Although there was a finality in her voice, there was kindness, too, and understanding. “Not now,” she added, more quietly. “Not like that.”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him.

“We’ll talk,” she said. “Just you and me, when this is all over, yeah?”

He nodded again, his eyes still fixed on the greenhouse in front of him.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, his traitorous heart aching at the thought of her down in the bowel of this place, trapped amongst scared humans…possibly infected herself.

At least, she wasn’t alone.

At least, there was a part of him with her.

…

He couldn’t stop thinking about ants.

Tiny little creatures. So easily…crushable, yet a real nuisance, especially when they got into things.

Tiny crushable nuisances.

“Look at Sheila,” Jeff was now saying. “Tell me she’s not about to burst!”

As a general rule, most species did not take well to being trapped together in one place, with the prospect of _death_ hanging over their heads. Only a few species actually used this kind of situation as a means to encourage reproduction.

Humans were not amongst those – not while in the thick of it, at least.

The heat sure wasn’t helping, as far as making an already volatile situation even more volatile.

It’d been a few hours since the A/C had been shut down, and the underground level of the research facility was now as humid and warm as the greenhouses above. Although no one had ‘burst’ since Alice – not even Sheila, despite Jeff’s claims – their little group of people kept on getting into the same argument, over and over and over again.

The Doctor was trying to remain out of it for the most part. Only a few weeks had passed since his unfortunate trip to the Sapphire Waterfall; he hadn’t exactly forgotten how his cleverness and curiosity had nearly gotten him thrown out of a bus to his death, by no other than a handful of scared humans.

He was struggling to shut out the close-minded comments that kept being made, though. None were quite as irritating as _Jeff_’s, who couldn’t go more than three minutes without stirring up trouble, repeatedly claiming that anyone possibly infected shouldn’t be kept in the hall with the rest of them, no matter how many times he was told that keeping everyone _here_ was the best way to prevent any possible escape.

“It’s been over half-an-hour since Charlie and Liz got their nose bleed,” he was now saying. “It’s only a matter of time before their veins start showing like Sheila’s, and then what?”

A couple of his colleagues actually laid their head down on the table, as irritated by the man’s attitude as the Doctor was.

All these _Sheilas_, _Charlies, Lizs_ and _Alices_…

Even though he’d had to have heard everyone’s name at least once by now, they all remained nameless figures to the Doctor – except for good ol’ _Jeff_, of course. He simply couldn’t bring himself to…care.

He watched Rose instead, who regularly made her way between the two tables people were occupying, chatting everyone up, calling them all by name because why wouldn’t she. She probably knew everyone’s life story at this point, while he just stood there against a wall, thinking about ants.

So…tiny.

“We can’t just sit there and let it all happen!”

Crushable.

“Time’s not a factor,” the Doctor couldn’t help but say, his voice louder than he intended. Quite condescending, too.

“What are you on about?” Jeff asked, immediately taking the bait.

“It’s all about opportunity,” the Doctor continued, not elaborating.

“That makes no sense, mate,” Jeff retorted.

The Doctor could have sworn he felt a vein throb in his temple at being called _mate_ by this buffoon. Just like everyone else in the room, he was sweaty and flushed, affected by the rise in temperature.

“Except that it does,” he replied sternly.

He technically shouldn’t be this warm himself, nor this sweaty. He couldn’t control his body functions the way he usually did, unfortunately. His mind just happened to be a tad…scattered.

A bit fragmented.

None of these were enjoyable sensations, reminding him a little too much of what it’d felt like, not to be able to move a single one of his muscles back on Midnight, when that…_darkness_ had taken over.

But this wasn’t like that. Not like that at all. There was no darkness.

Only heat, and a throbbing behind his eyes.

“Think about it,” he continued, unable to stop himself from going full Time Lord on the idiot who’d been making everyone even more miserable this past hour. “Gavin was the first infected. Might have been for hours, yet he only died during lunch, when everyone in the building were together in one room. Then there was Lloyd, who didn’t die around any of you, because you’d already been exposed and possibly infected. He tried to get out instead, to spread the virus outside. Meanwhile, Alice died within minutes of getting her nosebleed. And because she knew she couldn’t get up these stairs, she died trying to leave through the backdoors, which are now out of everyone’s reach.”

He paused, staring at all of them without seeing them at all.

“This virus is trapped,” he concluded. “Unless something changes, no one else here is going to die.”

It’d been quite the monologue, enough to get anyone thinking for at least a whole minute.

Anyone with an actual brain, that was.

“Viruses don’t _think_,” Jeff replied within seconds. “What kind of doctor are you, exactly?”

_Throb throb throb_, went the vein in his temple.

“The kind who knows a great deal more than you do,” the Doctor nearly sneered. “You clearly are not the brightest person in this room, yet you insist on repeatedly overtalking everyone, even those of us who are much, _much_ smarter than you.”

Jeff actually got up at these words, and although the Doctor would not typically behave like this, he briefly entertained the thought of letting the man approach him, curious to see what would happen if he _dared_.

There was pressure on his arm, and he looked down to see Rose’s fingers, closed around his upper arm. He moved his gaze to meet hers, noting the concern in her eyes, yet not really _registering_ it either.

She shook her head a little. “He’s not worth the trouble,” she told him quietly, so that the others couldn’t hear. “Let it go.”

The Doctor might be willing to let it go for her, Jeff sure wasn’t.

“What d’she just say to you?”

“_She_ said she might just break your nose in about a minute if you don’t shut up,” Rose replied calmly but with undeniable warning in her voice, staring right at Jeff. “Give it a reason to bleed.”

Jeff stared back, very much looking like he had more to say.

“Do sit down, Jeff,” Emma told him.

He did, with obvious reluctance, glaring at the Doctor as he did, who only stopped glaring back when Emma’s phone began ringing, a sound he’d come to associate with getting news from the outside. She moved further away in the room to take the call.

Rose was still standing next to him. Although she’d released his arm, she hadn’t moved away; he felt the weight of the stare she’d fixed on him, but he did not meet her eyes.

When Emma came back, less than two minutes later, she looked…troubled.

“What is it?” Rose asked.

“It was the SHC,” Emma said, looking at them in turn, making sure to speak loudly enough so everyone could hear. “They just told me they’d be sending us a crew within the next four hours. When I told them about you two, they didn’t know who you were. They said they hadn’t sent anyone yet.”

The shift in the room was subtle, yet almost palpable.

“We can explain,” Rose told them, her tone still calm, but there was an edge to her voice.

“Do it fast, then,” one of the women said – Sophie? Carolyn?

“It’s true, we’re not from the SHC,” Rose admitted. “But we still came here to help.”

“Why exactly should we believe you?” Sean asked. Although he hadn’t moved from his spot at the bottom of the stairs, the way he was holding his gun had changed, as if he was waiting on one wrong move from him or Rose to shoot.

This was enough to get the Doctor’s blood boiling.

“Because you do,” the Doctor stated in his most patronising tone. “Because that’s what I’ve been doing for hundreds of years. Helping humans out of situations they trapped themselves in, after putting their noses in places they had no business even coming close to. This whole situation with the Bahiris? Never would have happened if you hadn’t come here in the first place.”

“Doctor,” Rose warned him, putting a hand back on his arm, but he was the one to shake off her hold, this time.

He was unable to remain still a moment longer, starting to pace instead as he glared at the group of humans on the other side of the room, all gathered together now.

Except for Rose, who remained on his side.

“We’re travellers,” Rose tried to diffuse the situation. “We travel through space, helping people wherever we can. We came here because we got a message saying you needed help, that’s all.”

“A message from whom?” Emma asked. Of everybody in here, she seemed the most willing to listen, although the way she fixed Rose was still distrustful.

“It’s…complicated,” Rose said.

“’Cause we’re not smart enough to understand, is that it?” Jeff chimed in.

“First intelligent thing you’ve said today, Jeffrey,” the Doctor heard himself saying.

“_Doctor_,” Rose protested, but the Doctor definitely was not willing to listen, or act rationally.

“I do _not_ need to prove myself to these people,” he told her, hot fury running through his veins. “And neither do you!”

“You’re all talk until shit gets real anyway, aren’t you?” Jeff taunted in retaliation to the Doctor’s jab. “Telling us what to do, that we’re all gonna be fine, that we shouldn’t deal with the problem ourselves when the truth is, you’re just protecting your own neck! ‘Cause we’d have to deal with you, too, isn’t that right? You got _sprayed_, mate, and that was before you and your bitch started probing Gavin’s body!”

The pulse behind the Doctor’s eyes became a throb as the heat in his veins spiked, and he felt himself lunging forwards more than he made the conscious decision to do it.

He did absolutely nothing to stop himself once he realised what he was doing, though, having only one goal in mind at that moment: make Rose’s warning about Jeff’s nose come true.

He was restrained before he could make it happen, unfortunately, a few hands and arms grabbing at him and holding him back, something they probably found harder than they expected. He was a tall, skinny man, after all, but he was a lot stronger than he looked.

He fought against their hold for a few seconds, until Rose’s face came into focus again, as she’d come to stand in front of him, one hand pressed to his chest, the other on his cheek.

He couldn’t quite make out the words she was saying, but he felt the clumsy nudge of her mind as she tried reaching out for his, the way she had once or twice before. She was inexperienced, a complete novice, a _human_.

But she was also…Rose, and this genuine awareness of her _seeking_ him, as incompetent as her attempt might be, grounded him.

He didn’t allow for any kind of bond to form between their minds, too worked up at the moment to take that risk, but it calmed him down enough that he stopped fighting against his restraints.

He went as far as stepping back, shaking off everyone’s grip, before walking away from the main group again, back to pacing. He was squinting a little at the light, now, both his hands clutching at his hair as pain throbbed within his skull, feeling the sweat that covered his skin, how it dripped down his forehead and leaked out of his nose.

It was too bloody _hot_ in here.

He needed to get out.

“You should sit down,” Rose was now saying, somewhere near him, yet she felt…far.

He couldn’t possibly sit down. The heat…the heat was unbearable.

He wasn’t even sure how _she_ could bear it. If it was affecting him like this, it was only a matter of time before it got to her, too.

Rose…

He had to get her out.

“Doctor?”

The odd tone she used to say his name was what refocused him, this time, at least long enough to make him slow his pacing and locate her; she was standing less than two metres away from him.

She was pale, if not for some pink patches in her cheeks, her body locked with tension. Her skin was damp with perspiration, causing her hair to stick to her temples, her thin coveralls to her body.

There was something very wrong about the way she was staring at him.

“I’m fine,” he told her, his voice low and oddly gravely, waving a dismissive hand before scowling at her, the kind of scowl he usually gave people when they worried about something particularly trivial. “It’s all good. _Molto bene._”

But Rose shook her head, and he noticed that she was actually trembling a little. “Your nose,” she breathed out. “It’s bleeding.”

Frowning, the Doctor brought a hand to his face and wiped at the moisture he’d felt accumulating under his nose.

When he brought his fingers down, they were shining with blood.

“Uhm…” he noted, before bringing them to his lips, using the tip of his tongue to taste it, analysing the molecular composition of his own blood.

When he focused back on Rose, all traces of colour had gone from her face.

“This might complicate things a bit,” he admitted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only just a bit.
> 
> Feedback remains the most efficient way to motivate me to write/edit faster :’D


	21. Moe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is running out. Let's hope they all make it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, last part of this *slightly * stressful adventure. This is quite long, and still quite stressful, fair warning.
> 
> Also...happy 100,000 WORDS to this fic I guess?????

**Chapter Twenty-One – Moe**

On one particularly boring training day, Rose had been required to attend a lecture all about the effects of panic on the body and mind, so that one could continue to function when all hell broke loose.

She hadn’t learned much that day, having long ago developed her own coping mechanisms through first-hand experiences; she knew how to turn this excess of adrenaline into an advantage, instead of letting it take over. She knew all about _panic_ and how to deal with it.

And yet, she was finding it increasingly hard not to panic, right now.

There’d always been a hierarchy to things like these. When she first travelled with the Doctor, all these years ago, he’d been the one in charge, the one offering words of reassurance when things looked bleak. After they were separated, she’d become the leader. She’d had people looking up to her in dire situations, people who expected _her_ not to panic.

Her brain refused to work properly as she stared at the Doctor, today. He’d already resumed his pacing, a hand back in his hair, a small trickle of blood steadily oozing out of his nose.

He looked…_sick_, sicker than she’d ever seen him, his face flushed and feverish, his eyes glassy, dark circles underneath, his skin and hair damp with perspiration. There was the jittery state of him, too, this indescribable yet almost palpable feeling that he wasn’t…_him_, not really, not anymore.

He was muttering under his breath, but her brain hadn’t caught up with the words yet, too deafened by the loud thumps of her heart against her ears as it pounded beneath her ribs, pulsing all the way to the tingly tips of her fingers.

Telling herself _not_ to panic was pointless, not when she watched a man she’d often thought of as unshakable and unreachable slowly break under the influence of one microscopic enemy, not when she herself could be only moments away from joining him, all too aware of the sweat on her skin, of the clench of _heat_ squeezing the air out of her lungs.

Rose closed her eyes, grounding herself with a slow breath, forcing the air to fill her lungs to the brim, holding it there as she focused on her heartbeat, on that tingle of adrenaline coursing through her limbs, exhaling slowly.

_In…and out_.

Time to reverse these roles, then.

Coming out of her own head, she realised the Doctor hadn’t been the only one talking; while he’d been muttering, the others weren’t all that quiet. One voice in particular was louder than the others, and what she was hearing did nothing to calm her.

“…say we deal with him before he makes a run for it.”

Rose turned on the spot, fixing Jeff with her deadliest glare. “You as much as try coming near him and I swear your nose will be the least of your worries.”

Jeff had the good sense not to test if she was bluffing.

Rose refocused on the Doctor, walking closer to him before her nerves left her. He slowed his pacing when he noticed her approaching.

“Look at me,” she ordered him more than she asked.

He did, glazed eyes meeting hers, and her heart clenched, overwhelmed again by this feeling of him not being quite _him_.

“D’you realise what’s going on?” she asked.

Although he nodded, he quickly closed his eyes, his face scrunching up in a pained grimace, shaking his head a little. “Well, yes. And no.” His voice remained half an octave lower than usual, thick and husky. “Rationally, I’m tempted to say this means I’m infected. But there’s this big part of me that just…needs air.” He reopened his feverish eyes, fixing them on Rose. “I really need to get outside.”

She didn’t let her newest surge of panic get to her, pushing it all down. “I know,” she said, sounding a lot calmer than she felt. “But you can’t go outside right now, and you know that, too.”

He nodded again, back to pacing in front of her like a caged animal. “I’m gonna try, though.”

“I figured you would,” she said. “That’s why you’ve got to help me stop you.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Makes no sense for me to tell you how to do that.”

Even as he said these words, he was reaching inside the pocket of his coveralls, extracting his sonic before Rose could as much as tense, watching as he threw it to the side. It slid across the ground, stopping only a metre away from where Emma stood.

Rose exchanged a look with the other woman, nodding in assent, and Emma quickly picked it up.

“Sulphur,” he said then, still not looking at her.

“Sulphur,” Rose repeated.

“He should try – ” He stopped, eyes shut, both hands back in his hair, looking like he was clutching at it hard. “Makes no sense,” he repeated. “No sense at all.”

He resumed his pacing and muttering, as if not really aware of Rose anymore. Emma came closer, handing over the sonic, but Rose shook her head.

“It’s best I don’t keep it on me,” she said, trying to be realistic about her own fate.

“Is he…dangerous?” Emma asked.

Rose swallowed hard. “He could be. He’s not as human as he looks. If he wants to get out, really wants to get out…he will.” She forced herself to take another calming breath, but it wasn’t working that well anymore. “Can I use your phone?”

Emma didn’t argue, having apparently decided that Rose was still trustworthy, after all. She didn’t even have to say more, Emma already calling her wife. They exchanged a few words, before Rose was handed the phone.

“Hello?” she asked tentatively.

“I’m here,” _his_ voice came through. Clear, sane, and comforting.

Undeniably concerned and out of her reach, but _here_ nonetheless.

She turned her back to Emma and took a few steps to the side in a feeble attempt at concealing herself, her throat clenching, eyes burning. “Things aren’t going so well,” she said quietly, trying to hide how upset she was.

There was no lying to him, though. “Tell me,” he encouraged her.

“He’s infected,” she admitted, her voice shaky and thick with tears. “It seems to be affecting him more than the others, too, like…like _it_ knows it’s got into someone more powerful.”

“It probably does,” the Doctor said, his voice still steady, but Rose could tell he was rattled by the news. “Is he still thinking clearly?”

Rose had already gone back to staring at the other Doctor; even though he was still pacing, he did not look as agitated as he did a couple minutes ago – which was not necessarily a good thing.

“Not really.” She shook her head as if he could see her. “He doesn’t make much sense but he’s not…_gone_ gone, you know?”

“Yeah,” the Doctor said. “The virus won’t have the same effect on him that it has on regular humans. We’re quite resistant when it comes to things trying to take over.” A pause. “What about you?”

She swallowed hard. “I dunno…” she breathed out. “It’s really hot down here, so I keep thinking everything I feel is a symptom, but I still feel like…me.” She took another wobbly breath. “’m probably infected, though. If it got to him, there’s no way it’s not getting to me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said. “I’ve seen you recover from some serious injuries, injuries that would have killed others.”

She was about to protest that this was different from these burns she’d gotten in Chicago, when she remembered the way her shoulder had healed itself, earlier today, only moments after she’d been exposed…how this might mean her body had actually been reacting to the infection, protecting her once again.

There was no way she could focus on this now.

“Sulphur,” she found herself saying, as randomly as the Doctor had, only two minutes ago.

“Sulphur?” he repeated.

“He said something about sulphur. It didn’t make much sense, but it sounded like something he wanted me to tell you.”

There was a pause, and then: “_Oooh_.”

There had been background noises the whole time they were talking, but he was obviously moving now, having taken the phone away as he talked to someone else, _fast_, the kind of complex scientific babble she understood very little about. It went on for a good minute, eventually refocusing on her.

“Hi, hello, sorry about that, bit of a break through,” he announced.

Rose, who was still staring at the infected Doctor, barely allowed herself to hope. “A cure?”

“Indeed,” the Doctor answered straight away. “We were already developing one, but this will speed up the process tremendously. The sample you found earlier did appear to be the original source of the virus. I’ve been working on both a tox screen and a cure, but from every bits of conversation I’ve heard, it sounds like this was an attempt from the Bahiris to infect the planet’s population, sent to one of Zuitania’s top researchers, disguised as a rare soil sample.”

While Rose recognised the importance of knowing what had caused this in the first place, it didn’t matter much to her at the moment. “You do have a working cure, then?”

“We do,” he said. “Well, hopefully. _Well_, probably. Turns out this specific strain of virus is a mutation from another virus called _Broxotoliphis_, a nasty little thing that wreaks havoc on the vascular system of most mammals as it causes most capillary tissues to swell up to the point of rupture by disrupting the osmosis of – ”

“Doctor,” Rose refocused him.

“There’s a cure for it,” he confirmed. “Which means I was able to synthesise a cure for this one, too.”

Rose sighed in relief, some of the panic clenching at her heart lessening slightly. At least until he spoke again.

“The cure itself isn’t difficult to make, now that we know what it is, but it takes time, which is not something we have a lot of, not with the Guards still itching to go in and ‘take care’ of it. Tox screen’s almost ready, though. Any of you who didn’t get infected will be able to be tested and let out.”

She took in a shaky breath. “I’m not coming out, Doctor.”

“Don’t say that,” he replied at once. “Like I said, there’s actually a chance you didn’t get infected at all.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s not what I mean.” She stared at the other Doctor, who had stopped his pacing and was now leaning against one of the doors that led to the inner building. “Even if I’m not infected…‘m staying here with him.”

His silence felt heavy.

“I suppose there’s nothing I can say that will change your mind, is there?” he asked, defeat in his voice.

Her lack of answer was answer enough.

…

The world was slowly draining of all colours.

There was no more consistency to most of anything.

It was like being sucked into some kind of warped dimension. Not another universe. _Dimension_. He knew for a fact that other universes were essentially identical to his own, save from details; some were big, some were minute, but it really was all it came down to, in the end. Details.

This…this went beyond details.

Everywhere he looked, people and objects alike were distorted, as if he was looking at them through an ever-changing lens. Everything was _wrong_ and everything was _off_ and everything was _grey_.

It was all cold compared to the heat in his veins, all colourless compared to that red pulse thrumming behind his eyes, and underneath his skin.

There was a dual awareness to his perception of his surroundings. A part of him, a big part of him, the part that was in control, was still listening in, taking it all in, _thinking_ it through.

And then there was the part of him that was powerless, spectator to his own demise.

Midnight all over again. Conscious of what was going on, yet unable to stop it from unravelling.

This lack of consistency was interfering with his sense of time, too, somewhat aware that he was losing entire chunks of it, while this other part of him heard everything and continued to process it all, awaiting the right moment to make his move and leave the building.

Not quite yet.

He’d always been good at this; figuring out the outcomes of most situations. It came with his ability to perceive timelines, trained to recognise these moments that had the potential to create a divergence, a rift in the unfolding of events.

Technically, he could have made an attempt by now. He could have made several attempts. But the timing wasn’t right, and the details were wrong.

It always came down to details.

He watched as the world shifted around him. At some point, a few mask-wearing people joined their group, a couple of them setting themselves up at a table, while the others stood by the staircase, with guns.

_Tox_ _screen_.

People were being tested to see if they were infected or not. It was as simple as sticking a cotton swab into their mouth and scraping their inner cheek in order to collect some epithelial cells. The swab was then dipped into a small vial of liquid, and their fate was determined by a change of colour, which revealed their result. Pink meant go.

Brown meant stay.

He did not move from where he stood, leaning against one of the doors, as there was no point in him taking the test, no point at all. He lost interest in watching the humans go through it one by one, more interested in watching the armed guards, as they presented his biggest obstacle. Not insurmountable, but a hindrance nonetheless.

The duality was greatest when he tried focusing on Rose.

Like everything and everyone else around him, there was something unfocused about her, yet the sight of her was…sharper. It had to be caused by these loose tendrils between them, these tendrils they’d weaved every time their minds connected, no matter how fleeting the bond.

He was most himself when he set his gaze on her and watched her move, listened to her talk, noted the ever increasing tension in every single one of her muscles and bones.

But that other part of him…that other part of him did not like Rose very much. It sensed danger, there, sensed _weakness_, forcing him to look away as often as he stared.

It wasn’t long before most humans had been tested, only a handful of them forced to remain here with him.

Rose hadn’t gone, hadn’t even been tested. She was coming up to him again, and as she did, she was not that colourless at all, the pink in her cheeks almost vibrant compared to the dullness all around, finding himself caught in the amber of her eyes.

She shouldn’t be here, though. She _shouldn’t_.

“Go,” he heard himself say, in part himself, and in part _not_, because that Other Part really did not want Rose here with him.

She was shaking her head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here with you.”

“You are not,” he insisted.

“Tough,” she replied, just as stubborn. “If you think I’m gonna – ”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence as he grabbed her, both his hands framing her face, fingers on her temples. The gesture was rough, yet not aggressive, coming from the _him_ that only wanted her safe.

The way he opened up their bond was rough, too.

He couldn’t help it, couldn’t control it, not properly, not anymore.

He needed her out, needed her safe, needed her with the only person out there who could help stop him, and the only way he could convey _any _of it to her was to let it all out, straight from the source.

The shock and pain she felt at the intensity of their connection hurt him as much as it hurt her, tuned in to her every emotion in that moment.

_PLEASE GO_

The words echoed in her mind, the words and the desperation attached to them. Whatever panic he felt in her, it was pale compared to his dread and helplessness, unable to stop what was happening to him, even more terrified about what it would mean for _her_ more than to any living soul out there, and he let her feel it all.

She stumbled back when he released her, as quickly as he’d grabbed her. That Other Part had caught up, quite aware of the guards and their guns, which were all pointed towards him, now.

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” he heard Rose say, but she sounded distant already, her voice muffled and distorted.

He’d used up what might have been the last of his willpower to try and get her out, his grip on himself almost entirely gone.

Even staring at her wasn’t enough anymore, watching as her features began wisping away like sand from a dune, blown by a gust of wind.

…

Zuitania rotated on its axis faster than Earth, causing its days and nights to be much shorter. By the time two of the Fantastic Four were going inside to test people with _his _tox screen, along with one too many Guards, the sun was already setting.

He was not in the best of moods; while the people he was forced to work with seemed rather appreciative of his intellect and ability to think fast under pressure, he was still being kept out of the building.

Sure, he’d told Rose he wouldn’t try sneaking in, but he’d never said anything about going inside _officially_.

He’d unfortunately been forbidden from joining the team that would be performing the tox screen, being told instead that he should stay out here, finishing the cure. His own bloody cure. There wasn’t much more he could do at this point; he’d already taken care of the more delicate steps that would ensure a successful preparation, which meant less competent people should theoretically be able to finish it without incidents.

That was why he didn’t feel too guilty about stepping out of the tent when people started coming out of the building, unable to focus on anything else at this point.

His heart jumped every time a new person emerged at the top of the staircase, despite the probability of that person ever being Rose being somewhat null. Even in the off chance that she’d passed the test and turned out _not_ to be infected, she’d made it clear she wouldn’t leave the building without his counterpart.

It didn’t keep him from standing there, waiting, hoping, his nausea worsening with every new face that wasn’t Rose’s. Standing nearby, Abby wasn’t faring any better, most of her composure gone by now, literally twisting her hands.

He therefore wasn’t entirely surprised by her reaction when a curly haired woman appeared at the top of the stairs, and Abby nothing short of dashed for the airlock. By the time she was reaching it, her wife was coming through; when they hugged each other, it looked like the kind of embrace that emptied the air from lungs.

He was so busy taking in this demonstration of love that he did not notice Rose until she was almost to the airlock herself, her and the two doctors who’d gone in to test everyone – which meant she would be the last one let out.

The Doctor was frozen to the spot, feeling particularly inapt compared to the nearby couple still openly displaying their relief at being reunited. All he could do was stand there as Rose walked through the airlock, his insides liquifying when her gaze found his.

She looked as rough as everyone else, maybe even worse, her clothes having been traded for some sort of plain work coveralls, her hair not even dry from whatever decontamination shower she’d obviously taken, strands of it sticking to her clammy skin.

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Before he could unstick his bloody feet from the ground so he could _get_ to her, or at least do something besides gape at her, she was the one walking to him. He just about had time to see her face constricting that she was hugging him, her arms wrapped around his middle, and it was as if she was trying to squeeze all the air out of _his_ lungs.

It took him another half-second, maybe, but he finally snapped back into himself, hit over the head by the sheer feel of her against him. All he could do was gather her even closer, holding on to her with equal strength as she burrowed her face in his chest, feeling her breathing him in, deeply.

Their moment didn’t last long, no more than a few seconds; he could have stayed like this with her for a couple of hours and still mourn the loss of her once she pulled away. When she did, meeting his eyes again, hers were too bright, something broken in her gaze.

“You came out,” he said, stating the obvious in a voice hoarser than it should be, but he didn’t give a damn.

Her face constricted again. “He…he asked me to,” she whispered, a tear seeping out and rolling down her cheek.

For once, what he felt towards his counterpart as he raised a hand and used his thumb to wipe that tear away wasn’t envy, jealousy, or inadequacy; all he felt was unabated _gratitude_ for whatever he’d done or said to get her to change her mind.

“It’s my fault he’s infected,” she continued, crestfallen. “I acted without thinking again, and now he’s…” She shook her head. “We’ve got to help him.”

It took most of his will power not to cup her face in his hands and pull her to him, kiss her flushed skin, taste the salt of her tears, only wanting to comfort her, and comfort himself, too.

But this was not the time, nor the place, part of him aware of the organised chaos around them.

“Of course we’ll help him,” he reassured her, hoping that this wasn’t another lie he was telling himself as much as her.

Unfortunately, ‘helping him’ was easier said than done, especially with a bunch of trigger happy people who could still decide at any moment to go in and _eliminate_ all threats, rather than wait for the cure to be ready.

The fact that one of the infected people was _him_ did not bode well for anyone either.

“He’s going to find a way out,” he told Rose.

She nodded. “I know,” she said. “He’s fighting it, though, he really is. He might manage to keep himself inside until the cure’s ready.”

The Doctor grimaced a little. Judging by the look on Rose’s face, she realised there was something else he wasn’t telling her.

“What?” she demanded more than she asked.

“He might do more than keep himself inside, if he’s really fighting this off,” he said. “If he gets to the stage where the virus needs to…_spread_, his body will react the way it always does when in danger of death.”

Rose stared up at him. “You’re saying he’s gonna…” She swallowed hard. “He’ll regenerate.”

He nodded. “Regeneration could become inevitable. The process is tricky and rarely a conscious decision in itself, but it’s sometimes possible to choose…_when_ to let it happen. The energy…it should eradicate the virus from his body altogether. He might choose to trigger it, if that means keeping it from spreading.”

They didn’t talk about the other big implication. About the big _change _that would result from that particular outcome.

He might not be able to read Rose’s mind, never would be, but he didn’t need telepathy to know she was thinking about it, too, along with a multitude of other things that caused her to look somewhat overwhelmed.

Until something hard settled in her eyes, and she met his gaze again. “I’m not betting his survival on the off chance that he _might_ regenerate,” she declared. “We help him before any of this happens.”

As if on cue for dramatic effect, a loud series of sounds erupted from the building, causing them to startle, turning to look at the source of the noise.

There were no less than three infected people inside the lobby, all of them banging against the glass wall, when they were not slamming themselves into it.

None of them were…him.

What had been organised chaos only moments ago felt like proper chaos, now, a few guards already pointing their guns towards the glass wall, awaiting a word from their general to open fire.

“Oi!” the Doctor shouted, having spotted said general. “You’ve agreed not to harm any of these people until the cure was ready!”

“That was before they started throwing themselves against a glass wall,” the general replied. “I can’t get in touch with my men who were guarding them, which means they’ve been neutralised. And if they’re killing off my men…”

“We don’t know that,” Rose chimed in. “They might just be unconscious.”

She met the Doctor’s eyes, obviously thinking the same thing, having a fairly good idea _who_ was clever enough to knock a handful of guards out without killing them.

“How long till that cure is ready?” she asked.

“About half-an hour, give or take a few minutes.”

“He’s not gonna need that long to get out,” Rose said, and all of them startled again when a loud _thump_ pierced the air. One of the infected had gone back to the hall and grabbed a _chair_, which they were now using to try breaking through the glass. “Might not take this lot half-an-hour either.”

This wouldn’t do. What they needed was…

“Time!” the Doctor shouted, making everyone jump again. “We need more _time!_”

Rose frowned up at him. “You mean, take the TARDIS to the Time Vortex and finish the cure there?”

He shook his head. “Too risky. I’ve done it before, reappeared at an exact time and place, but there always was an element of dumb luck to it. Can’t risk rematerializing an hour too late.”

“If you don’t start making sense soon, my men will start shooting,” the general warned.

“We give ourselves more time,” the Doctor repeated. “We knock _them_ out.”

“How d’you suggest we do that?” Abby asked, she and Emma having joined their little meeting. “If these three are in the lobby, that means the others can be anywhere in the building.”

“Gas,” the Doctor said. “We gas them out with tranquiliser. Put it in the main A/C system.”

“The system’s down,” Emma reminded them. “We turned it all off after Gavin died.”

“How do you restart it?”

“There’s a panel for it in the main security room,” Emma said. “That’s…down there.”

“This is not a viable option,” the general declared. “It would require at least one of my men to get in there, with no proper means of protection.”

“I’ll do it.”

The Doctor’s heart sank as everybody’s eyes turned on Rose.

“I’ve seen that room,” she said. “I was actually in it not two hours ago.”

“No,” was all the Doctor said.

“It’s the best option, and you _know_ it. The safest one, too.”

“Not the safest one for you,” he argued.

“Don’t start again,” she almost snapped. “You know I – ”

She stopped, as if remembering there were a whole group of people listening to every word they said. She moved away, tilting her head to indicate she wanted the Doctor to follow her.

As soon as they’d stepped aside and gained some privacy, she resumed: “Don’t be stubborn about this, _please_. I know the place, I know how to get there, and I can actually defend myself as well as any of these guards. The difference is, I can do it while making sure none of these people die, which isn’t something we can guarantee if one of the guards gets inside. Plus, I’ve already been exposed to that thing, and didn’t get infected.”

He could have argued each and every single one of her points for hours, anything to keep her from going back in there. But the more rational side of him, the side of him that wasn’t begging him to do anything in his power to keep her from harm’s way, knew she was right. They didn’t have _hours_ for them to argue.

They barely had minutes.

“Then I’m coming with you,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, you’re not.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she stopped him. “You need to be _here_, making sure the cure gets finished.”

“They’re already taking care of it,” he insisted, peeved, because _the hell with the cure_. “We can be in and out in less than ten minutes, I can even bring the TARDIS straight to that room, which would save us even more time to – ”

“Doctor,” she stopped him firmly, but not unkindly, grabbing his hands. “What if something goes wrong with the cure, and you’re not there?” She squeezed his fingers, her eyes begging him. “And think about it. Bringing the TARDIS _inside? _Where he’s at, waiting for you to do something like that, in the state he’s in?”

He swallowed hard, unable to deny it.

“We can’t let him get to the ship,” she said quietly. “I’d actually suggest you move her, hide her in the corn or something.”

“Rose…”

“I just can’t let you take that risk,” she continued. “I just can’t. He’s already…” She stopped, taking a wobbly breath. “This universe’s too big and too dangerous to risk it losing both its Doctors, tonight.”

The lump in his throat made it impossible for him to speak in that moment, wanting to ask her what made her think this universe wasn’t big or dangerous enough for him to risk losing _her_ again.

“I’d do it for you,” she insisted, her voice trembling a little. “Just like you’d do it for me. So…please. Let me do it for him.” She squeezed his fingers again. “You gotta trust me, yeah?”

He remembered the catch in her voice when she’d spoken similar words, only hours ago.

_You said you trusted me._

Maybe it was time for him to start proving it, indeed.

…

Sneaking back inside that building was about as easy as leaving it had been.

In the end, the Doctor was the one to reluctantly suggest using the ventilation shafts, the very same ones that would then be used to disperse the gas once Rose got the A/C back on.

“If you follow the shafts, you should be able to exit through any of the vents inside the inner part of the building.”

That was good enough for Rose, who had done more than her fair share of vent crawling in her adult life.

She did not linger for goodbyes, especially not with the Doctor. He really ought to be back inside that tent, now, scowling at people less qualified than him, but she couldn’t blame him either for having a hard time leaving her.

He did not tell her to be careful, for which she was grateful; there wasn’t much he could do about the concern in his eyes, though, that and every other emotion she saw in there.

“Go,” she eventually told him. “Go move her, at least,” she added, tilting her head towards the TARDIS, parked behind him. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

When he reached for her face, she experienced another strong feeling of dejà-vu, unable not to remember the way the other Doctor had grabbed her, back in the building. The similarity stopped there.

Although his grip was strong, there was nothing rough about the way he pulled her up and pressed his lips to hers.

It didn’t last long, no more than a few seconds, but she felt more in his kiss than she would hear in any of these things left unsaid between them, from the way he framed her face and held on to her, to how he rested his forehead upon hers afterwards.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he breathed against her lips, and her eyes prickled with tears.

“A bit too late for that,” she replied as quietly. _A few years too late_, she didn’t add.

He let out a gush of air that may have been a scoff, or a sigh, or something else altogether.

He did let her go, though, walking to his TARDIS without a look back.

Less than two minutes later, Rose was waist down into an air shaft, which was slightly smaller than she would have liked it to be.

“You have ten minutes, not one more,” the general reminded her. “If we don’t hear these fans going by then, we’re going in.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” Rose said. Seconds later, she was wriggling into the shaft.

Travelling through air vents had never been one of her favourite activities; the fact that this particular air happened to be hot and humid wasn’t helping. She wasn’t crawling for more than a minute that she was already drenched in sweat again.

With more time and some careful planning, she could have tried getting closer to the security room before exiting the shafts, but as she’d just been reminded, she did not have the luxury of time. She decided to go for one of the first vents she came across instead, which was locked, as she suspected it would be.

She got the sonic out, which she’d recently gotten from Emma, putting it on the setting the Doctor had instructed her to use, and a few seconds later, she was slipping out of the vent, landing on the ground below almost soundlessly. She was dirty, sticky and flushed, the inside of the building still uncomfortably hot, but it was still better than being inside these shafts.

She’d arrived in one of the labs; lurking outside the door, she tried figuring out where she was. Although she had indeed gone to the security room with Sean and the Doctor, she’d done so from the main hall. She didn’t hesitate long, aware of every passing second, relying on instincts and her inner compass, turning left at the first intersection she found.

Her heart quickened even more when she recognised this area as one of the parts she’d gone through when running after Alice. Now more confident about her position in the building, she retraced her steps at a jog, making a few turns; less than two minutes later, she spotted the door she’d been searching for, going straight for it.

She stopped dead in her tracks as soon as she opened the door, hand clutching at the handle, her heart jumping in her throat.

The Doctor was in the room.

“Hello, Rose,” he spoke calmly.

He looked worse than he did when she’d last seen him, twenty minutes ago. His eyes were red rimmed and hollow; his face, more greyish than pale now, was shiny with perspiration.

Worse than that were the small, dark lines visible beneath his skin.

She opened her mouth to speak, only to find that she couldn’t, too shaken by the sight of him in this state – not to mention the sight of him in this _very _room.

The corner of his mouth pulled a little into a mocking smile, as if he’d read her thoughts.

“Funny thing, having someone who shares your mind,” he said, and even his voice sounded wrong. “Despite all these things that set us apart, you’d be amazed how similar we are. It was a question of time before he suggested someone came in to get the air back on, to knock us all out. And of course that person would be you, because if there is one thing Rose Tyler does, it’s get herself in trouble, especially when it’s to save everyone else.”

Her heart was thumping against her ears, panic trying to take over again. She didn’t let it, _couldn’t_ let it, her own mind working on overdrive, as it always did in moments like this.

“I learned that from you,” she said, partly to buy herself some time, but also because it happened to be the truth.

“_Eh_,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “I’m really coming around to the idea that trying to save everyone is a bit overrated.”

“It’s not, though,” she said. “And I know you’re still fighting this thing. If you weren’t, you’d have disabled these controls long before I got back in here. You haven’t done anything to them, ‘cause you actually want me to put the air back on.”

“That’s one way to see it,” he answered, his voice low and husky. “Or maybe I was waiting for you to bring me what I need to completely shatter the system.”

She was running out of time – and running out of nerves.

She could see the panel, too, the one she needed to reach to turn the air back on, only a couple meters to the side. All she had to do was _flip_ that one switch, but the instant she made a move for it…

“What d’you mean?” she couldn’t help but ask, still trying to buy herself some time.

He smiled a small kind of smile that made her shiver in unease. “I believe you’ve got something of mine in your pocket.”

Rose swallowed hard, shaking her head. “I can’t let you have it.”

“Funny,” he said, all traces of a smile gone, his feverish eyes set on her. “I wasn’t asking.”

Rose didn’t think anymore, leaping towards the panel.

As expected, the Doctor moved, too, his reflexes quicker than hers, as they’d always been, physically grabbing her to keep her from reaching the switch. He was stronger than her, even in this state, or even more so because of it. She knew the moment he touched her that she would never overcome him.

And yet…

One of his hands was in direct contact with the skin of her arm as they struggled, his fingers clammy and warm, too warm. She didn’t give herself time to think, acting out of instincts again, forcing herself to focus as hard as she could despite everything going on, begging for this frail ability of hers to work as she attempted to open that link between their minds.

If he hadn’t bonded with her the way he recently had, back in the hall, she doubted it would have worked. But whatever he’d done earlier had left both their minds raw and susceptible to one another, allowing her to find an _in_.

She latched on to it, latched on to _him_, nudging and pressing, calling out for any part of him that was still the Doctor.

Whatever was in him was powerful. She felt its grasp, and the way it was corrupting his every thought, like an oil spill in water, dark and viscous, trying to stain his very soul.

The weight of his mind was heavy against hers, and strong, too strong; it was trying to breach into hers to take her, break her, crush her, and she physically felt like she couldn’t _breathe_.

He pulled back, tore himself from her, both from her mind and her body, and she crumpled to the ground, shaking and aching, but able to breathe again, taking in loud gulps of air. When she refocused enough to look up at him, he was towering over her, heaving and trembling as much as she was.

The sonic was in his hand.

She waited for him to point it at the panel and fry the circuits, signing everyone’s death sentence.

He didn’t.

“Don’t follow me,” he hissed in warning; despite their connection being physically broken, she felt something still, felt him, like a splinter in her mind.

And what she sensed from that part of him was that she should do whatever it took to _stop_ him and keep him from getting to his ship, anything to make sure he stayed grounded.

He was out of the room before she could get back on her feet. She forced herself to move, acting on pure adrenaline, rushing to the panel and flipping the switch back on, reactivating the A/C. She knew she had less than a minute before the gas began dispersing and filled the room. She’d expected to get knocked out with everyone else when she’d agreed to do this, but things had changed.

She was running, running toward the stairs she’d taken when chasing Alice, because that’s where the Doctor would have gone, and indeed, when she burst out of the staircase into the greenhouse, he’d already reached the far end of it, trying to sonic his way through the door.

Fortunately, whatever technology the guards had used to seal it didn’t seem easily breakable, definitely not working as fast as he’d like, turning around when he heard the rush of her footsteps.

“Stop!” she shouted, but he was already on the move, dashing towards one of the glass windows, sonic flaring again.

Next instant, he was crashing through the glass and disappearing into the night.

Rose didn’t let her shock stop her or slow her down, sprinting with everything she got. By the time she reached the broken glass, he was already getting back up, immediately running off towards the closest corn field. She followed, calling out his name as loudly as she could, both in an attempt to get him to listen, but also hoping his counterpart hadn’t gone _that_ far that he wouldn’t hear her and come to her aid.

As she hurried through stalks of corn, it dawned on her that asking the other Doctor to move the TARDIS had been pointless; after hundreds of years spent together, he had to have ways to find his ship, remembering the telepathic connection he’d sometimes mentioned.

Right now, it was _their_ telepathic connection she was desperately trying to reactivate, still sensing him, distant yet _there_.

“Doctor!” she called out again, moving blindly through the field, following a kind of instinct she couldn’t describe nor explain, even as she focused inward.

He’d been able to find her in the past, when they’d gotten separated in Chicago. He’d found her, and if he could find her, what stopped her from finding him, too?

It was foolish; she was a novice, a human, and telepathy was something she knew next to nothing about, except for what he’d allowed her to see and feel.

But their bond…their bond was _real_.

It was quantitative, intense and powerful. She’d felt how powerful and overwhelming it could be not two minutes ago, his presence having left bruises on the inner ridges of her mind.

She called for him through their bond as she called for him out loud, seeking him, begging for him to listen, to stop whatever he was doing, to come back to her and let them help him.

_please please please please please pl – _

She was not prepared for the physical _impact_ that came next, as she was thrown to the ground. All the air left her lungs when her back hit the earth, soon crushed under the physical weight of him, pinning her down, his hands clenched around her upper arms.

“_Stop it_!” he snarled into her face

But Rose didn’t stop.

She fought against his grip with all her might, anything to move her hands and make any kind of contact with his skin – his wrists, his face, his neck – with the unique goal to spark that link open again, imposing herself just as she had inside.

Their struggle was bound to leave some marks, physicals and _else_, but she didn’t care. There was no way she could stop him, too weak to fight him off, too weak to save him, but she had to try, she had to try, _she had to try_.

He came off her as abruptly as he’d pinned her down, his body forcefully pulled away from hers, immediately severing their mental connection, yet not entirely muting it either.

All Rose could do was watch as both Doctors wrestled, crashing and rolling through the field as they tried overpowering one another. Even though one of them was _possessed_ by a deadly virus altering his cognitive functions, there was something inherently violent about the way they fought each other, the saner of the two not holding anything back.

Still faintly connected to the Time Lord Doctor, Rose sensed some of the _fury_ he felt towards this other him; it wasn’t even a hatred of the man himself, but a throbbing pain, an indescribable ache.

One that was inexorably linked to her.

She didn’t need to be connected to his counterpart’s mind to know something similar was fuelling _his_ wrath.

And then, it stopped.

The wrestling, the throbbing in her mind…it all stopped, back to being alone in there, if not for…echoes.

It took Rose a few hazy seconds to take in the scene in front of her and understand what she was seeing, noticing the syringe sticking out from the Time Lord’s neck, now lifeless on the ground, his counterpart sprawled next to him, fighting for breath.

Rose was fading, too, faltering and falling as the last of her strength trickled out of her.

Darkness swallowed her, until even the stars above were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remind me never to write adventure again hahahaaaa.
> 
> I'm going to be dealing with more family things this upcoming week, so it might take me longer to post the next chapter...which will be extreeeeemely FEELS!HEAVY (*cough*smut*cough*). I think I've earned it x'D
> 
> As always, any feedback from you is ♥
> 
> (Check my Tumblr for writing updates on this story. Link's in my profile)


	22. Hurricanes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions run high in the aftermath of one particularly rough adventure. This chapter is E rated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been dealing with more heavy/sad family stuff (haha 2020 am i right), which made it hard to get into the right writing mood, or to even find the time to do it. Thank you to those of you who took the time to send me some love and encouragement, it’s always deeply appreciated, and a bigger help than you know, especially in moments like these ♥ 
> 
> I’m changing this story’s rating to (soft) E for the smutty content in this chapter; if you’ve read any of my E rated scenes before, you know it always stays rather…well, soft haha. Those of you who want to skip the smut altogether…let’s just say you’ll be able to tell when you get to it xD 
> 
> I’m putting a Feels™ warning on this, so consider yourself warned.

**Chapter Twenty-Two – Hurricanes**

A familiar jolt went through the ship and its inhabitants as it completed its dematerialising sequence.

Rose closed her eyes at the sensation, exhaling in a long, quivery breath as some of the tension she didn’t even realise she was holding left her body. She wasn’t ‘relaxed’ by any mean, too achy, worried and drained to be able to _relax_, but this confirmation that they were off the planet at last and back into the relative safety of the Time Vortex was a relief.

Before long, she’d reopened her eyes and refocused on her task, resuming the tending of his cuts, an act she’d found to be rather soothing. She’d finished with his hands, having moved on to his face. Not only did this give her the illusion of being helpful, it also gave her an excuse to stay by his side and watch over him.

She’d had to extract any small piece of glass left in the wounds, first, which hadn’t been easy; it’d taken a while for the trembling in her hands to subside enough so that she could hold tweezers properly. She used warm water and a piece of soft cloth next, cleaning each small gash slowly, methodically, washing the rest of his face as well, ridding his skin of the layer of grim and sweat. Once cleared, said skin remained pale, but it was the kind of pale she could deal with; the absence of protruding _veins_ was a big improvement in itself.

Rose was so absorbed by her task that she didn’t realise they weren’t alone in the infirmary anymore, her focus only faltering when a familiar tingle prickled at the back of her neck. She looked up and away from the Doctor’s unconscious face, only to meet his very eyes behind a pair of dirty lenses. Leaning against the jamb at the entrance of the room, he’d been watching her care for…him.

Dirty lenses or not, the way he stared at her was enough to cause her heart to skip a beat, her insides dipping.

Even without looking in a mirror, she knew how grimy she must look, between all the vent crawling and wrestling she’d been doing. She sure _ felt _ grimy. He looked better than she did, although there was an untidy air about him; his day hadn’t been exactly peaceful either, without even mentioning its rather violent conclusion.

Remembering the way both men had fought with each other caused Rose’s throat to clench, distraught by the memory of how intense their self-loathing had been…and the role she played in it.

“Did it go okay?” she asked after a few seconds of silence, more to put an end to the tension stretching between them than out of curiosity; she’d already disconnected herself from most of the events of today, too overwhelmed to try processing any of it, yet.

Her question did nothing to dissipate the tension, as the Doctor carried on with his blatant staring.

He did shrug, though.

“As well as it could be expected, I suppose,” he answered, his voice low and weary. “Not much more I could do once the cure was administered. I did run more tests before we left. Looks like this particular virus has officially been eradicated from the facility.”

Rose nodded, averting her eyes to look back at his counterpart, still unconscious, the way he’d been for the last two hours.

She’d lost a couple of minutes herself, back outside in the field; even after she’d come back to herself to find the Human Doctor hovering over her with his hands on her face, it’d taken her a while to…reconnect; the struggle she’d gone through with the infected Doctor had left her _aching_.

Even now, there was a kind of throbbing in her mind she doubted any painkiller could fix, easily equalling and surpassing the soreness settling in most of her muscles.

“D’you need to…run more tests on him, too?” she eventually asked, indicating the unconscious Doctor with a tilt of her head.

He shook his head, already back to staring at her, and her heart nothing short of tripped over itself when he pushed himself off the jamb and walked closer to the examination table; he didn’t come near her, going to stand on the other side of it instead. Despite having declined having to run tests on his counterpart, he did perform a couple of check-ups Rose had already seen him do earlier when they’d first brought him here, scanning his body with an odd-looking device that kept making squeaky noises.

She couldn’t keep herself from staring at him in turn as he focused on his examination, trying to gauge the severity of the situation from the look on his face alone. He wasn’t giving much away, although the early signs of a familiar scowl were settling on his face. Close as he was, she also noticed the darkening colours on the lower part of his jaw, undoubtedly caused by an angry fist.

His gaze moved, meeting hers over the rim of his glasses. “He’ll be all right,” he told her, his voice even lower than it’d been a minute ago; whatever face staring at his bruised skin had caused her to make, he seemed to have interpreted it as a sign of concern for his counterpart. “The tranquiliser should be gone from his system by now, and the cure’s done its job. It might take him a couple of days to fully recover, but there shouldn’t be any lasting…aftereffects.”

As he said these words, the throbbing in her mind spiked for a second, causing her to flinch. She averted her eyes and looked back down at the other Doctor, quite certain that what she was feeling wasn’t entirely…_hers_.

“You should get some rest.”

The quiet tone he’d spoken with was enough to make her eyes prickle, unable not to look back at him, finding nothing but soft concern reflecting in his gaze.

Rose swallowed, shaking her head a little. “I can’t leave him,” she admitted in a constricted whisper.

She wished she could _ talk _ to him. Tell him she couldn’t leave the Time Lord Doctor because she already knew what kind of guilt he was going to be battling with as soon as he woke up and realised what he’d done; she felt it in her _ guts_. She doubted she would be able to help much but…she had to at least try.

She couldn’t speak, though, the words twisted in both her heart and constricted throat.

He didn’t argue any more than he had earlier tonight, nodding almost imperceptibly. He did avert his eyes, though, pushing his glasses back up his nose in a gesture that was quickly becoming somewhat of a nervous twitch, opening his mouth to say something himself.

Rose wasn’t surprised when he didn’t, her turn to look away, unable to keep staring at him, equally ashamed and frustrated by their inability to _communicate_.

The Doctor stood there for a while, already back to watching her while she watched…_him_, and each second that ticked away filled the space between them with a thicker kind of tension.

He moved, eventually, slipping away from the room as quietly as he’d entered it.

…

Being in a room devoid of light caused most humanoids’ eyes to adjust and adapt, some of the rods found in their retinas latching on to the smallest source of light, until at least the most basic shapes in that room became discernible again. Completely colourless, maybe, but recognisable nonetheless.

Abruptly turning on the light in such a situation would cause anyone to feel _ pain_, as everything became bright again, too bright to see anything at all for a few seconds.

That’s what coming back to himself felt like, at the moment.

Except that his eyes weren’t the only part of him being overstimulated, forcing him to keep them shut; it felt like every single one of his senses had been rubbed raw. Light, sounds, smells…every aspect of him meant to keep him aware of his surrounding world throbbed as they fully became _his_ again.

He didn’t become aware of Rose as much as Rose seemed to regain proper…consistency. His recollection of the last few hours might be hazy, his perception of her had never faded completely.

Even before he was conscious enough for his discomfort to turn into pain, the Doctor..._felt_ her, like a prickle in his mind.

“I…I don’t think you should.”

Her words were odd, as was her tone of voice.

Only when he dared open his eyes in a slit to peek at his surroundings again did he realise he’d actually sat up, both his hands up to his head, clutching at his hair. It felt damp against his fingers and palms; damp, sticky, dirty…like the rest of him.

He felt like an elastic band that had been stretched as far as it would go while he was dissociating. Stretched, stretched, stretched…pulled further and further away from what had been going on. Now that he was himself again, the band had snapped back into place, and the memories of everything that happened after getting exposed to the virus were coming back to him in full force, his mind struggling to cope with the intensity of this deferred momentum.

Once again, her touch recentred him somewhat.

Her hands had come to cover his over his head, the heat of her skin already seeping into his, her body back to being warmer than his, as it should be. It went beyond that, though, beyond the immutable laws of thermodynamics.

Her mind…her mind was seeping into his, too, as if magnetically pulled deeper and deeper, until she was so much more than a prickle.

She was an undercurrent running deep beneath his skin, a riptide crashing through his very foundations.

The feel of her might be soothing him, it was also triggering more memories, remembering the way their minds had clashed.

No, not…clashed, not _just_ clashed.

There’d been a battle of sort…a fight for dominance.

Connected to her as he was, he felt it as _she_’d felt it, how he’d tried to _crush_ her.

Even now, the fallouts of his recklessness were howling in her mind, feeling the quivers of pain she couldn’t quite suppress; she was still sore from their brutal encounter, yet here she was, _still trying_ anyway.

Guilt and shame overtook him, and he began drawing her out, as swiftly yet carefully as he could; she felt it, the way she always did, sensing her echoing plea, having no other choice but to ignore it, shut it out, shut _her_ out.

Within moments, he’d not only drawn her out of his mind, he’d also swept through hers, severing any of the loose threads that had formed between them in her desperate attempts to reach him, allowing her to be completely freed of his presence for the first time in hours.

Soon, the only contact that remained was between their skins, her hands still covering his over his head. He couldn’t even allow himself to keep this soft, tactile comfort; Rose had proved once too many times that she could and _would_ attempt to reinitiate a bond, if given the slightest of chance.

He let his hands fall from his head, forcing hers down in the process, eventually pulling his fingers out from her loose grip, until she was left standing in front of him while he sat on what appeared to be the examination table in their TARDIS’ infirmary.

Back to being alone in his head – except for all the nasty voices in there – he completed a quick internal check-up, assessing his state. Whatever cure his counterpart had concocted and given him, it’d worked; the parasite was gone from his system, although he was a long way from being fully recovered yet, experiencing what he supposed were ‘flu-like’ symptoms, including a non-negligible amount of pain.

Nothing a few hours of regenerative sleep wouldn’t cure.

If he let himself sleep.

The brief telepathic exchange he’d just shared with Rose seemed to have both strengthened and weakened him. While getting to see her memories had helped him fill most of the holes in his own recollection of events, it also made him realise how _foul_ he’d become while under the influence of the virus, which caused his shame to throb deeper, unable to look at her.

He wanted to ask her if she was okay, if she was in pain; he didn’t even have to, having felt all he needed to know.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually managed to articulate with some difficulty, his voice quiet and hoarse.

“’s okay…” she replied as quietly, her own voice shaking a little. He cringed at her words. There really was nothing _okay_ about what had happened. “You weren’t yourself,” she added.

He was…overwhelmed.

He was in pain, weak and…

Vulnerable.

He never dealt well with feeling like this, bared of all his defences.

_ You weren’t yourself_.

He had indeed lost himself, today, properly _ lost _ himself, but…

…what if he’d actually revealed himself instead? Revealed the darkness within?

Let his true self out, the version of him that crawled out of the woodwork whenever he was at his lowest, at his most egotistical and unforgiving.

That version of him couldn’t bear to be in the presence of someone like Rose, whose kindness and compassion _burned_ him, like boiling water poured on already raw skin.

He was…undeserving.

He couldn’t stay here, almost able to feel the empathy coming out of her in waves, even after everything he’d done to her. He couldn’t take the risk of harming her any more than he already had.

He was on his feet within seconds, his legs wobbly and weak; his every limb felt too bloody heavy and achy, pain pulsing through his head.

“Doctor.” She spoke his name as a word of reproach and concern.

He ignored her, needing to get away.

“I’m fine,” he lied, already moving towards the door. “I just need to get some rest.”

_Coward_, one of the nasty little voices whispered in between the double thrum of his hearts. _Coward coward COWARD._

He’d already stepped out into the corridor when Rose caught up with him, reacting the way she always did, these days.

She reached out, grabbing his hand in one simple, comforting gesture.

Unfortunately, even such a small gesture was amplified in the current state of their bond, any kind of contact enough to trigger a connection, and the soft nudge of her mind was more than appealing.

It was _intoxicating_.

It made him want to cradle her face in his hands and fully lose himself in her, to let go of it all, forgo this physical, aching shell of his and simply _be_, deep inside of her, as deep as she would be inside of him.

He didn’t.

Couldn’t.

Because beyond the sincerity of her nudge, these invisible bruises were still there, just as there must be bruises concealed beneath her clothes, the memory of how he’d clenched at her physically and _ else _ causing his insides to shrivel in humiliation.

And so, he denied her.

He refused her, blocked her out of his mind, as gently yet irrevocably as he could, aware that he was only hurting her more by doing so, but what other choice did he have?

She deserved so much better than…him.

When he pulled his fingers from hers and walked away once more, she let him.

…

The pangs started back on Zuitania, as he was checking on the last of the infected people – all cured, thanks to him and their almost useful team of doctors. No one had given him grief when he’d declared it was time for them to go, having seen enough to realise he was the kind of person who _could_ leave without needing anyone's authorisation.

The pangs came back while he showered, minutes after leaving Rose watching over his counterpart in the infirmary, assuming the odd stirring in his guts were a physical manifestation of all these thoughts crammed up in his mind, not all of them the good kind. The shower hadn’t been as cleansing as he’d hoped it would be; he may not have done anything today that was a cause for regrets, he couldn’t say he was terribly proud of the way he’d behaved with his original self either.

He could come up with plenty of excuses that would explain why he’d _lost it_; how seeing the other man pinning Rose to the ground, hurting her, had dragged out the nastiest part of him…but even he was self-aware enough to know it went beyond feeling protective.

He didn’t put his suit back on afterwards, neither brown nor blue, not feeling much like _the Doctor_ at the moment, opting for the plain, loose clothes he sometimes wore when he attempted to sleep – not that he could even hope for any of that at the moment. He may be feeling the aftermath of the day’s work and its high levels of stress, left almost lethargic from the sudden absence of adrenaline in his bloodstream, there was too much on his mind for him to be that delusional when it came to ‘sleep’.

He was debating taking himself to the library in the hope of finding some distraction there, when the pangs started up again, along with a characteristic _ growling _ that finally helped him realise what he’d been feeling was just plain hunger.

He wasn’t any more hungry than he was sleepy, but his body had obviously decided otherwise, dragging himself to the kitchen.

He was on his third slice of bread when the door opened, and Rose stepped in.

The way his insides ached at the sight of her was somewhat different from the stirs of hunger he’d been ignoring for the last couple of hours. There was relief, too, at simply seeing her, knowing her to be safe and sound, but he remained concerned for the most part.

She looked even more ragged than she had a while ago, back in the infirmary, having yet to change or wash.

Although she briefly stopped in her tracks as she came in, probably not expecting to find him leaning against a counter in something resembling pyjamas, she didn’t even try to meet his eyes, not acknowledging him at all. When she started moving again, he noted the tension in her body, despite her movements being about as sluggish as his were.

The Doctor watched as she downed a tall glass of water in one go, noticing the couple of pills she popped into her mouth, first, answering his unspoken question about whether or not she was in pain. She opened a cupboard next, grabbing a box of what had been her favourite cereals for years, dumping a fair amount of it in a bowl before slumping into a chair, not even bothering with milk.

She just…sat there for a few minutes, temple resting on her closed fist, slowly popping flake after flake into her mouth, the _crunch…crunch…crunch_ of her chewing the only sounds in the room while he finished his piece of bread.

“Is he awake?” he eventually asked once he was done – a truly pointless question.

She wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t.

Rose nodded upon her fist, eyes lost in the distance. “Went to his room to rest, I reckon.”

Although she’d spoken quietly, he heard the strain in her voice, the barely concealed hurt in it, and her gaze, which had been hazy from the moment she came in, became _misty_, causing his insides to clench again.

He didn’t have to _imagine_ what kind of attitude his counterpart had greeted her with when he woke up; they were the same bloody idiot.

“Are you all right?” he couldn’t help but ask, another stupid question, but he was an idiot, too, after all, and seeing her in pain always made him particularly useless.

She shook her head a little, her eyes watering even more. “I’m really tired,” she admitted in a whisper.

He wanted to say her name, in the hope that she might look up at him instead of staring into space. Surely if she looked at him, she would realise that he was here, too. She might even stand up and walk to him…let him wrap her in his arms, beyond willing to both give and receive some of that comfort his original self had obviously refused her and himself.

“That’s…understandable,” he said instead, pitifully, always the coward. “Long day.”

To his horror, her face constricted, as if she was about to cry.

She didn’t, not yet anyway, shaking her head against her fist. “’s not that kind of tired,” she breathed out, before shrugging. “Not…just that kind of tired, anyway.”

When she straightened up, leaning back against her chair as she folded her arms across her chest, he was fairly certain his pounding heart skipped a beat when she met his eyes at last.

She didn’t speak again for what had to be the longest minute of his life, staring at him, looking crestfallen and…exhausted, indeed.

“I’ve loved you for a long time, you know,” she eventually said, sounding as defeated as she looked.

While hearing her say that she loved him should be a cause for _good_ feelings, he mostly felt miserable right now, especially when her face constricted again and a couple of tears trickled down her cheeks.

“Loved you long before you changed,” she continued, quietly. “Still do, now, despite it all. Probably always will at this point, even if I end up – ”

She didn’t finish her sentence, looking away as she brought a hand to her face to wipe it off – as pointless a move as his questions had been, more tears already leaking out. He found himself wondering if she’d ever get to say these words without tears streaming down her face.

If her loving him, any him, would ever be a source of joy to her, instead of being a cause for heartache.

“You said you loved me,” she resumed in a whisper, not looking at him. “Felt that much from him, too, and you sure act like you do, both of you. But I…” She took in another wobbly breath, losing that battle against herself. “No matter what I do, I can’t get close to you.” The tears were coming faster, now, and it stabbed at his heart. “There’s two of you, and I can’t get close to any of you.”

Her next inhale and exhale were deep and shaky as she pressed both her palms to her eyes, clearly trying to get a hold of herself.

She dropped her hands, eventually, shrugging as if none of it really mattered anymore. “‘m just…really tired, Doctor.”

There was such finality in her both her tone and demeanour, he knew that whatever patience she’d had with them, it’d officially run out.

This…this was his chance to step up, to make sure she knew what she meant to him – all of him. To apologise and maybe even beg for forgiveness.

Unfortunately, a nasty voice in his head was quick to remind him that part of why she was talking to _him_ and telling _him_ this was only because his other self had shut her down in the first place. 

That other him who didn't even bother with words anymore and let her _feel_ it all.

It wasn’t rational, and it sure wasn’t fair, especially considering the way he’d already let these insecurities ruin things between them not twelve hours ago, yet here he was, staring at her as she sat there, defeated, waiting to see if he was going to say the right thing, this time around.

She didn't look that surprised when he didn't.

When no word came out, his throat completely closed up, heart pounding while his body shook faintly, Rose didn’t insist.

She simply stood up and left the room, 

(Maybe it was time for him to stop being a coward)

…

There were bruises on both her upper arms.

They were faint, not as noticeable as they would be in a couple of days when their colours darkened, but their shape, round and evenly spread out, made their origin unambiguous. She was easily able to match her own fingertips to each of the blemishes, mimicking the Doctor’s grip, as if to prove herself this was indeed how they’d come to be.

Rose’s memory of that scene was fractured at best; most of her focus at the time had been on trying to connect with him through their bond. She couldn’t even remember feeling any physical pain, more overwhelmed by the sheer force of his mind.

Whatever he’d done back in the infirmary, it had completely muted what was left of their connection, although it hadn’t undone what was…already done. The painkillers she’d taken had dimmed her headache and most of the soreness in her muscles, but there still was an ache in her mind no drug would be able to reach; she couldn’t even tell if it was a consequence from their rough telepathic encounter, or if she was feeling the loss of him more than usual.

Not that it mattered anymore.

Like she’d just told the other Doctor, she was beyond tired. Too tired to make the kind of decision she knew needed to be made, for her own sake if not for anyone else’s.

She needed to sleep, first, thinking about the couple of sleeping pills she’d also grabbed from the infirmary, now waiting for her in her room on the other side of the door, years of nightmares after Canary Wharf having taught her the benefits of using potent drugs every once in a while, if it meant shutting off her brain.

Actually, drying her hair would have to come first; she’d just stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel when she’d caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, seeing enough before it steamed up completely to notice the bruises on her arms, leading to her brief examination.

She was almost done when there was a series of knocks on her bedroom’s door, loud enough to be heard over the sound of the dryer. She felt a brief nudge in her mind, quite different from everything she’d felt so far today. Different yet…familiar, instantly knowing _who_ was standing on the other side of her door. She ensured her grip on the towel was secured before she walked out of the bathroom.

She wasn’t surprised to find a Doctor in glasses standing behind her bedroom’s door, still wearing the casual outfit she’d seen him in only half-an-hour ago – not that she cared about what he was wearing. After everything she’d seen in the last eight hours, including with his counterpart, this was the least shocking.

_He_ on the other hand, seemed somewhat taken aback by her attire – or lack thereof.

He’d opened his mouth to say something, but not for the first time today, he seemed to have gone rather mute, the way his gaze moved as he took in her ‘outfit’ making it clear this was the most likely cause for his renewed silence. Any other day, she might have found his reaction endearing, even amusing, his cheeks flushing as he looked at her.

Rose wasn’t amused, tonight.

She was _genuinely_ bone-tired, yet she couldn’t help being affected by his proximity and reactions, not to mention that smothering tension that never failed to fill whatever space existed between them.

His gaze didn’t wander long, but it was enough for her insides to clench when he finally met her eyes.

“What d’you want?” she asked quietly, not unkindly, but there was no hiding the tiredness from her voice or demeanour.

He swallowed hard, taking a bit of a wobbly breath; she didn’t really expect him to answer, having obviously backed himself into another corner.

“I want to apologise,” he actually said, and although his voice was hoarse, he sounded almost…confident.

Her surprise didn’t last long, already entrapped in his gaze, as he’d gone back to staring at her without blinking.

“I’m sorry,” he did apologise, his voice dropping in both volume and pitch; she knew he meant it, too, from the look in his eyes to the sincerity in his words. “You were right. I’ve been letting my fears and insecurities dictate my actions, pulling away instead of letting you in, the way I always have, and for that, I am so very sorry.”

Her eyes were burning again, her constricted throat making it impossible for her to speak – not that he seemed to expect her to.

“I do love you,” he told her, quietly. “I love you in a kind of…overwhelming way. The kind of way that is rather terrifying, to be perfectly honest. I constantly find myself worrying about you more than anyone else in this universe, or the next. I get obsessed by the thought of you. I get…possessive and jealous. Because I love you. But I love you selfishly.”

He took another shaky breath, not once breaking eye contact.

“I know he’s me, because I’m…_him_,” he continued, his voice even lower. “I understand that on a very intrinsic level only _he_ can understand, too. Which is why the thought of you ever having to choose between two ‘_me’_ is nothing short of ludicrous. Especially considering I still can’t quite figure out why you’d choose any of me at all. I do get all of that, and the very unfair position we’ve put you in, Rose Tyler. But the truth is, even if I mean it when I say I am fine with…sharing, there’s always gonna be this part of me that just…wants you for myself. All of you. All the time.”

He did finally look away, as if realising how vulnerable he’d made himself with his little speech. Before long, he was bringing a hand to his face to push his glasses up his nose, his trembling fingers then darting to the back of his head to ruffle at his hair, grimacing a little.

“I realise how bad that sounds, too,” he quickly resumed, unable or unwilling to let the silence stretch, his voice already taking a familiar ‘rambling’ edge. “Like I’m expecting you to just…accept the fact that I really am an egotistical man-child crippled with doubts and insecurities, especially that nasty ‘self-loathing’ trait of mine – and let me tell you, self-loathing is particularly tricky to deal with when you’ve literally got another _ you _ prancing about. Not that he…prances, about. Well, maybe he does a little. And well, maybe I do, too, I suppose. But since I’m still being embarrassingly honest here and it doesn’t look like I’m gonna stop any time soon, the prancing about really is just another way for me to try and – ”

He _did_ stop, rather abruptly at that, forced to refocus on her when he realised she’d let go of her towel, causing it to soundlessly unravel from around her body and fall to the ground.

A bold move for sure, but Rose had dealt with the Doctor long enough to know bold moves were the only way to go, on occasions – absorbing the Time Vortex to save his life…jumping through countless dimensions to get back to him…standing stark naked in front of him to shut him up and make her stance quite clear.

His breathing was loud and shallow as he stared at her, the flush in his cheeks darkening by the second, standing close enough for her to see how much his pupils had already widened behind his lenses.

Beyond being bold, this was an ultimatum of sorts.

She would never force him into anything, but as she’d told him earlier, she was _tired_, including tired of this endless waiting game, of the way they kept tiptoeing around one another. He’d just claimed he wanted her, and her current dare made it unambiguous that she wanted him, too.

If he couldn’t step up and meet her halfway…if he didn’t realise that her standing here like this, trembling from more than cold, was her baring a lot more than her body…if he walked away from her and left her there…then that decision would be irrevocably made.

He didn’t walk away.

He didn’t move either. Not at first.

She watched as his heavy gaze settled on her upper arm of all places. His breathing was still shallow as he raised a hand to where his eyes were fixed upon; she did not once look away from his face as he did so, aware of his thumb grazing one of the bruises on her skin, his touch so light she barely felt it.

She did feel it, though, so oversensitive that this small caress was enough to induce a wave of shivers beneath her skin, increasing the gooseflesh already covering her body. Something almost painful twisted at her insides, needing him to _touch_ her, instants away from simply grabbing his hand and making it clear what she wanted from him.

He moved before she caved, his gestures still slow, his hand soon hovering only an inch from her breast…until his thumb resumed its grazing, brushing her taut nipple almost _curiously_. The twist became a tug inside of her, causing her to suck in air sharply through her nose, the sound dragging his gaze back up to meet hers, his eyes equally dark and hazy with want.

Rose gave in, one of her hands coming up to his to press his warm palm to her breast, while the other reached up behind him and sank into his hair, pulling him down to her. He opposed no resistance, responding to her coaxing and taking it a step further, squeezing her breast in his hand as his tongue ran over her lower lip; she came to meet him more than willingly, her fingers twisting in his hair as he wrapped his free arm around her, pinning her tightly to him; her head was already spinning from the rush of heat triggered by the intensity of his kiss and touch alone, half-moaning into his mouth as his words pulsed in her veins.

_I want you for myself. All of you. All the time._

With his next moves, he was pushing them further into her room, hearing the sound of her door closing loudly behind him. He released her lips, next, using his free hand to get rid of his glasses, throwing them upon the floor without a care, before weaving his fingers in her hair, bringing his mouth to her jaw. 

He began a downward trail that followed the curve of her neck, nicking and sucking at her skin, until his tongue joined in and she was rasping his name, her fingers still clutching his over her breast, which he never stopped massaging. When his hand finally made to move, she let him go, releasing his fingers, her arm coming up to drape his shoulders instead, bracing herself, anticipating his destination and how much more difficult _standing_ was about to get.

Her legs did become somewhat useless the moment he brought his hand between them, the fast growing pulse of pleasure taking over any other message coursing through her nervous system as his fingers slid through her folds and dipped into her heat, just enough to gather some of the wetness already forming, there, quickly using her own slickness upon her. Her next moan was unrestrained, as was the rocking of her hips, trying to encourage more contact, more pressure, not caring about much anymore beside her need for release.

His next moves were unavoidable, letting herself stumble backwards as he pushed onwards, until she was falling with him, grateful for the sturdy feel of her bed beneath her…not as grateful as she was for the sturdy feel of _him_ above her, his lips having found hers again, one of his hands back on her breast as he pressed himself between her legs; the sensation was different from the feel of his hand, but oh, so very welcome, too, their kissing already breaking as he rolled into her, the hard feel of him through his remaining layer of clothes enough to make her insides throb with need, his raspy breath mingling with hers.

Their position might not be the same as it had been this morning, it still felt like they were resuming what they’d started, then...even if the longing that had characterised their embrace had been cranked up a few notches, lust having morphed into something closer to desperation, now, after surviving yet another ordeal.

There wouldn’t be much talking this time, if any at all; he clearly was past feeling hesitant about giving in to this, or about touching her, more absorbed with what appeared to be somewhat of an oral fixation: he seemed rather determined to taste as much of her as he could reach, his breath enough to prompt a response from her wherever his mouth drifted – although his breath rarely worked alone. His breath, his lips, his teeth, his tongue…

She was too far gone to even try reciprocating even an ounce of his attention, unable to do anything but let herself sink deeper and deeper into this heavy heat, past any imaginary point of non-return, deaf to absolutely everything but the staccato drum of her heart, as it pulsed and throbbed through her.

By the time his wandering mouth found one of her nipples, his hand had moved back between her legs, more daring now, fingers curling inside of her, when they weren’t running over sizzling nerves, in time with his lips and tongue upon her breast. The way he swiftly adapted both rhythm and pressure depending on how ragged her breath became, how unrestrained her moans were, or how she arched and bucked into his hand as her fingers twisted his hair, all of this made it clear he would be as fast a learner at this as he was with any discipline he was passionate about.

He did falter, eventually, more than altering his touch, stopping it altogether. Before she could voice her confusion and desolation, positively shaking with her need for release, he was on the move again, sliding off the bed altogether and pulling her with him, closer to the edge of the mattress – and much closer to that proverbial edge she was already tottering upon, the Doctor losing no time at all in replacing the curl of his fingers with the hot press of his tongue.

Rose was lost, not even caring that the way her heels dug into his back or her fingers clang to his hair might cause him pain. He didn’t seem to care either, not enough to stop, quite the opposite, working on her with an efficacy that was typically _him_, taking all of that heat and that pressure and that pleasure and making her tremble with it all, making her quake and rasp and cry out.

Her body shook with each of these surges, rushing from her very core outward, _whoosh…whoosh…WHOOSH_, following the pounding of her heart against her ears and much deeper, much, much deeper, spreading wider and faster and further. It gathered and it swelled, a raging, unstoppable tide, an upwelling that culminated in a towering peak made of pure light…until all of it poured out, flooding every last bit of her with pleasure and heat.

It took a while for her to…come down.

He never stopped his doting as he climbed back up and helped her scoot further up the mattress, even as he remained mindful of the sensitive, prickly state of her nerves while she recovered...peppering her flushed, clammy skin with kisses and soft caresses, when his fingers weren’t digging into quivering flesh.

This onslaught of sensations made it impossible for her to ever really calm down – not that she wanted to. She ended up wrapped around his clothed body, one hand still in his hair, the other one trapped under the shirt over his back, her short nails regularly sinking into his skin; his face was buried into the crook of her neck, his lips sucking at her pulsing point in a way that was bound to leave another kind of bruise. Oversensitivity having made place to _want_ again, one upward roll of her hips was enough to let him know she was ready, responding to her at once, pressing her deeper into the mattress as he groaned against her tingling neck.

She didn’t need to see his face to know he was as far gone as she’d been only minutes ago, feeling it in the way he moved,in the way he breathed, trembling against her. He was much too dressed, much, much too dressed, but the time and effort undressing him would require was almost unbearable at the moment.

He had to be craving skin-to-skin contact as much as she was, though, which was why she brought her arm out from under his shirt and grabbed the bottom of it, swiftly dragging it upward. He helped her pull it over his head with some difficulty, soon letting out a muffled groan against her lips as she lost no time at all in wrapping herself around him again, pressing her breasts to his chest while encouraging the rolling of their hips.

This absence of space between their bodies didn’t stop her from bringing a hand between them, slipping it inside his trousers to take a hold of him. His steady rolls stuttered as his body reacted to her warm touch, instinctively thrusting into her hand instead. Kissing became…impractical, too distracted and consumed by the feel of her, his forehead pressed to her cheekbone, so that when he moaned her name, it fell straight into her ear.

Her feet were working on pulling his trousers down long before a couple of their hands joined in the effort, not even bothering with discarding it completely; the moment enough of him was uncovered, he settled between her legs again, pure instinct driving them both, supporting his weight on one arm, pushing her leg up against his side with the other, their every move meant to help him find his way inside of her, now.

The feel of him when he finally did drew his name out from the bottom of her lungs, clinging to his shoulder blade as she rocked in time with his thrust; lost in the sensations, she didn’t immediately realise that he’d released her leg and brought his hand to her face, fingers on her temple, just as he had this morning, responding to another kind of instinct.

He caught up with what he was doing before she did, his every muscle locking into place even as he dropped his head, resting his forehead upon her shoulder; his fingers moved from her temple to curl into her damp hair, feeling the rushed, irregular heat of his breath against her skin.

She forced herself to refocus, helpless to fully comprehend his loss, yet unable not to feel it as her own. All she could do was…try. Try to comfort him, as she had before, not dismissing what he was going through, but unwilling to let him dwell in misery either, especially not _now_.

She moved, the hand that had been in his hair coming to rest upon his nape, unwrapping her other arm to go find his supporting hand near her head; she slid her fingers under and between his, entwining them, pressing her palm to his.

“Look at me,” she whispered into his ear, squeezing both his hand and neck.

He did, lifting his head from her shoulder to meet her gaze, bringing his face very close to hers again. His eyes were hazy with desire, yet also sharp with loss.

With centuries of loss and pain and unavoidable changes.

“I don’t care, Doctor…” she breathed out. “I love you, with or without it.” She shook her head a little, not caring either about the tears sliding down her temples, pooling into her ears. “I don’t _care_,” she repeated, releasing his nape to cup his jaw tightly in emphasis. “I love you.”

This was another one of these moments that could make them or break them, all too aware that he could still choose to pull away in his unwillingness to let himself be vulnerable with her, or to accept that she truly wanted him and loved him for who he was.

More tears slipped out when he returned the squeeze of her hand upon the bed, leaning his forehead against hers. “I love you…” he whispered against her lips, before he began moving upon and into her, intent on proving it to her.

With one of her legs now wrapped around his, _pressing_, her hand already leaving his face to grab at his backside, anything to draw him further into her, she did her best to keep up with the deep sways of his hips. What they lacked in practice, they made up for in sheer passion, soon falling in step with each other in the kind of synchronicity that belonged to more experienced lovers.

They defied expectations, the way they kept defying time and space, slingshot across a couple of universes and regenerations, finding one another over and over again.

He had nothing to prove, absolutely nothing to prove, yet he tried, the intensity of his love making drawing out as many tears as it was drawing out moans, her name regularly falling from his lips in near supplication, breathed out straight into her skin.

And every time he did, the plea in his voice reached the very centre of her soul, as well as any bond ever could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider letting me know if you’re still reading and enjoying this story, even if it’s just a small “I like it!” 
> 
> Not that I intend on stopping if you don’t, I love this story and these idiots too much not to see it through, but long projects like this one are real emotional marathon for me, especially during a year like this one; each chapter requires hours and hours of work, so it’s definitely easier to stay motivated when I know you guys are still on this journey with me. _Exchanging_ something with you as my readers is one of my favourite aspects of being a fanfic writer, so don’t be strangers ♥


	23. Wildfires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One Doctor down, one to go. 
> 
> This chapter contains smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was absolutely lovely, seeing so many new names in the comment section, last chapter ♥ Your support means more than you know.
> 
> I am terribly aware of the fact that we can all use distraction from the shittiness that is the Real World right now. I hope this giant chapter distracts you at least a little bit (it's over 8,500 words long). It contains lots of feels again, and a couple of smut scenes. Very Ten x Rose heavy, but Tentoo isn't forgotten either ;-)

**Chapter Twenty-Three – Wildfires**

She was running, or at least, she was trying to.

Hands extended in front of her, she was forcing the stalks out of her way, even as they seemed to be getting thicker, tougher and sturdier the further she went, slowing her down with every step she made. Her heart thumped inside her chest, which was much too tight, the air rushing in and out of her lungs, her own pulse making her deaf to anything but the _whoosh_ of blood against her ears.

Fear and dread clenched at her insides as she pushed onwards through this dark maze, convinced that her searching was pointless, that it was too late, much too late, but she couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop.

_Rose_

The whisper of her name rippling through her mind did stop her, turning around, and her heart jumped in her throat as she found herself facing a Doctor with hollowed eyes, thick veins protruding from his ashy skin.

Next instant, he was lunging forwards, grabbing at her arms to better push her down, until her back hit the ground in a –

Rose drew in a loud, quivering breath as she woke up, a violent shudder going through her body, her panic having followed her out of her dreamscape, feeling an odd nudge in her mind she couldn’t quite make out.

Her heart was pounding beneath her ribs, just as it been in her dream (nightmare), her skin tingling with this new rush of adrenaline she didn’t need, her breathing too shallow; her brain didn’t seem to care much about the _unreal_ quality of the threat she’d just escaped, especially since the reality she’d been pulled back into was equally shrouded in darkness.

There were movements against her, which helped her refocus as she became aware of the warm body pressed to hers, her eyes already adjusting to the lack of light, letting her take in her fuzzy surroundings.

Her rough awakening hadn’t stirred him from his sleep, although it’d affected him enough to make him move, having somehow managed to snuggle up _closer_ to her, his breath tickling her collarbone. The feel of him helped her calm down, pressing a hand between his shoulder blades, letting the steady rise and fall of his breathing settle hers; with her nose buried in his hair, she filled up her lungs with the comforting smell of him with her every inhale.

While her body slowly relaxed out of its panicked state, quieting her mind was not as easy. She wished she could simply lay there and bask in the tangible feel of him, in the knowledge that what was said and done earlier tonight could not and would not be taken back once he woke up. 

She trusted him. 

Enough to realise that, even if he would never trust himself completely, he wouldn’t back away from her, not again, not anymore.

The issue wasn’t…_him_.

She kept thinking back to everything else that had happened, from the other Doctor’s infection to their exchange in the infirmary. Even though most of her doubts had been soothed by his counterpart, enough not to make her think about leaving the TARDIS anymore, the way he’d shut her down hurt, the throbbing in her mind still very much present.

Beyond her own hurt, she was hurting for him; she knew in some twisted way, he was trying to…protect her. She’d sensed it when he was infected, every time their minds had clashed, no matter how harsh he’d been. Whatever little control he’d retained, most of it had been directed towards keeping her safe.

Even afterwards, in the infirmary, she’d connected with him long enough to sense the depth of his pain and shame…his unwillingness to drag her into the dark with him.

_Dunce_, Donna would say – and she wouldn’t be wrong.

He really should know by now that Rose would always try to drag him out towards the light. Or that she would carry some of it down there with her, if he didn’t have the strength to move.

The nudging resumed in her mind, similar to the one that had let her know which Doctor was at her door earlier, before she even opened it. She didn’t know much about telepathy, but she was intuitive.

She’d also spent enough time on this ship to sense _familiarity_ in that soft nudge.

She was about to press a hand to the closest wall, when the Doctor’s sleepy voice pierced the silence.

“’s a bit of a blow to the ego, y’know.”

Apparently, he wasn’t as asleep as she thought he was.

“Mm?” she ‘asked’.

“Here I was, convinced I’d tired you out for at least a few hours,” he explained, his groggy words half-muffled against her skin. “Unacceptable.”

She found herself smiling into his hair, warmth blossoming from somewhere deep in her chest as a wave of sheer affection washed through her. Now that she knew she didn’t have to worry about waking him up, she let her hand wander over his back, lightly using her nails over his spine, her smile widening at the shivers this simple touch induced.

“I slept a little,” she half-whispered, the teasing obvious in her voice, especially when she added: “I know you did your…best.”

“_Oi_,” he protested weakly, feigning to be offended, and she let out a breathless chuckle into his hair, her hand having moved from his back to sink into it, too, caressing it slowly.

“Sorry I woke you,” she whispered.

She felt him shake his head. “Sleep’s overrated,” he replied as quietly. “What’s on your mind?”

The simple fact that he _knew_ she’d been overthinking caused her eyes to prickle, giving his hair a heartfelt squeeze, her nails grazing his scalp, until he was letting out a soft, purring sound against her skin. 

The lump in her throat was worsening by the second, though, because what was on her mind was…_him_ (and possibly their TARDIS, from the feel of it). Despite everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure how he would react to her admitting how much she worried about his counterpart. 

_Again_.

As much as the Doctor wished he could pretend they were simply cuddling without a care in the world, he wasn’t _that_ thick either. He’d pretty much been awake as long as she had, enough to know she’d had a nightmare, and that she’d been lost in her thoughts ever since.

Judging by the way she was now tensing against him, he knew who she’d been thinking about.

He moved, unpinning himself from her warm, squishy body so that he could shift and shuffle higher up, until he was levelled with her; before long, their legs were entangled once more, the tip of their noses touching; while her hand remained buried deep in his hair, his mimicked what she’d been doing earlier, soft fingertips moving up and down the curve of her back, inducing shivers after shivers.

He couldn’t see much, but he saw enough to confirm she was feeling rather conflicted again.

Time to step-up and prove that his decision to be _sensible_ and mature about this wasn’t just a temporary one.

“If you want to go see him…you can go,” he told her quietly, before frowning a little, realising how it sounded. “Not that you need my permission, obviously. But if you’re hesitating because of me…don’t. I’ll be fine.”

Her face constricted, and close as they were, he saw how misty her eyes had become. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, until her lips were pressed to his palm.

“I just…I don’t want you to feel like I’m running back to him,” she whispered against his skin.

“I know,” he said, thickly. “And I’m not gonna lie to you…the most insecure part of me does tell me just that on a regular basis. But I trust you more than I do all these nasty voices in my head.”

He watched as a tear escaped the corner of her eye, following the curve of her nose; he caught it with his thumb, gently wiping it away.

“I can’t stop you from being you,” he told her. “That includes this thing you do. Stepping in, always trying to make our lives a little less miserable, even when we don’t deserve it. And I’d say he’s definitely the more miserable of the two, right now.”

When she still looked unsure, he used his hold on her to pull her to him, not hurriedly, but with definite intent, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. “I'm really not miserable.”

She let out a gust of air, almost like a laughter, but there was something too constricted in that sound.

“He’s not gonna let me in…” she admitted, struggling to get the words out.

He pulled away to look at her, scowling a little. “Since when do you let that stop you?”

He watched as she chewed on her lip, then shook her head a little. “He was pretty clear about it earlier.”

Something in him still felt like letting it go. Let her doubts prevail, let that other him rot in his self-inflicted torment, keep her all for himself a little while longer.

“I’m sure he was,” he said instead, because he couldn’t in good conscience remain selfish about this. “But he was also…well, I don’t want to say ‘miserable’ again, but that’s the best way to put it. He should feel better after regenerating a little.”

Upon seeing the look on her face, he quickly carried on: “Oh no, I don’t mean _regenerating_ regenerating! I meant, regenerative sleep, which I don’t think he was able to avoid today after what he’s gone through – some of the energy stored up for the next regeneration is used early, to help the body heal,” he explained. “All it does is make you lose a couple of years, but let’s be honest, it’s not like I ever go through any of my life expectancies anyway, I’m more of a ‘_whoops I died_’ kind of – ”

He stopped mid-sentence, clearly not succeeding in reassuring her, judging by the look on her face.

“Not helping?” he deduced.

She shook her head. “Not really.”

“All I meant was, he can’t really run away from you if he’s unconscious.”

“Tried that already,” she reminded him. “Still made it very clear he didn’t…want me.”

The Doctor swallowed hard, tightening his grip on her face. “He won’t this time.”

“How d’you know?”

He frowned a little. “Are you sure you understand how this _‘I am him and he is me’_ thing works?”

When she merely rolled her eyes, he moved, somehow succeeding in pressing their bodies even tighter together; it was rather impossible to hide the fact that _his_ body wasn’t unaffected by their proximity.

“He wants you,” he assured her, his voice already lower, running his thumb over her lip as heat gathered faster in his guts. “I want you. Which means he does, too.”

His _physical_ want might not express itself as strongly in his original self, though, especially since he wouldn’t have allowed it to become this overpowering.

There wasn’t much he could do about his own desire for her, except feel it and accept it, which was particularly easy when he knew Rose wanted him, too; her skin was already getting warmer beneath his palm as her face flushed, the fingers in his hair curling more…possessively.

She was the one to bridge the space between them, using that grip on his hair to pull herself even closer, until her entire body was pressed to his as tightly as it could be, including their lips…and all these warm places between them. She lost no time in deepening the kiss, her tongue seeking his in a languid caress as she rolled her hips into his, slowly but with definite intent, confirming that she was not only aware of his state, but quite decided on making it worse, too. All he could do was moan into her mouth, his own hips rocking in time with hers, encouraging more friction and more _heat_.

After the way they’d come together earlier, he’d thought this particular fire extinguished for the time being…maybe for a few days…or at least a few more _hours_. But that fire burned just as brightly as it had then, almost made worse by the fact that he knew how good she felt, now, something primeval in him needing to be back into her warmth, all of him surrounded by all of her…

“Thought you were gonna go,” he managed to rasp against her lips, even as his hand grabbed her bum and his fingers dug into her flesh, increasing the pressure with the next roll of their hips, and she moaned in tandem with him as he slid through her folds, so warm and slick, so close to being back inside of her.

“Later,” she breathed out, moving, pulling, rolling sideways until he was back atop of her.

With his next sway, he was sliding into her, his face pressed to hers, and he groaned at the combined feel of _her_, her fingers in his hair, twisting, the way she clang to his back, how _tight_ she was, the humming heat of her breath upon his face…

He wanted nothing more than to resume the swift back and forth they’d set up when they’d done this not so long ago, his body having proven it remembered how to do this alright…but said body wasn’t cooperating quite as well anymore. His muscles were…weak and already shaky, his every limb ridiculously heavy, not succeeding very well at keeping his weight off her.

“Roll over,” she quickly instructed him.

He did, taking her with him, not one to argue her willingness to take over and do most of the work, already too lost in the feel of her to manage much more than basic thoughts that mostly revolved around the inner praising of the human soon rocking upon him. 

She stayed low, favouring more contact between their skins over whatever positions could increase her pleasure…a pleasure she seemed to be chasing rather successfully, judging by the strong rolls of her hips, and the sounds she was breathing out upon his face. He could all but keep up with her; he could have laid there and not moved a muscle, his own pleasure would have grown just as steadily.

Even as she brought them both to another swift and electrifying completion, a hand down where their bodies joined, the other still curled in his hair, it dawned on him that _this _might also be her way of…‘softening the blow’, aware that she would soon be leaving him to go find..._him_.

But who was he to complain?

As it turned out, Rose hadn’t even moved from where she lay, sweaty and shivering on top of him, that the Doctor was asleep again. 

She remained there for a while, her ear pressed to his chest, listening as his heartbeat slowed down, until it was back to its lazy rhythm, his breathing deeper and equally slow. Only then did she carefully move off him, ignoring the new set of unavoidable soreness settling in many of her muscles.

She used the loo and took another quick shower, finding it once again difficult to…focus properly, her thoughts constantly drawn inwards. There was no sense of urgency in the suggestions drifting across her mind, all of which encouraged her to go to the other Doctor, but there was…purpose, an awareness that this was where she needed to be, now.

She ignored the nudges a little longer when she stepped out of the bathroom, taking the time to locate his discarded glasses before they got stepped on again, setting them down onto her nightstand, before pulling the covers over him. She lost more time simply watching him sleep for a minute (or three), eventually pressing a kiss to his slightly-flushed cheek, feeling the small stubble already piercing through his skin.

When she set out to find the other Doctor’s room, she didn’t struggle at all, the destination clear in her mind.

Upon arriving in front of his door, she pressed her palm to it, and what had been a gentle nudge in her mind became a certainty, aligning with everything the Human Doctor had told her; _this_ Doctor was currently in some sort of regenerative sleep, but he could definitely use the company.

_Go in_, the TARDIS encouraged her, just as the door moved beneath her palm, opening a little.

“If he ends up yelling at me, it’ll be on you,” Rose whispered, before sneaking in, closing the door behind her.

The room was as dark as hers had been, unable to make out much beside the most basic shapes, including the bed – and the man lying on it. She came closer, taking in his state, her heart aching at the sight of him half-curled up on his side like this, without any kind of covers; from what she could see, he’d managed to shower and change before he fell asleep, wearing an outfit nearly identical to the one his counterpart wore earlier tonight.

He didn’t stir at all when she carefully sat at the edge of the bed, even when the mattress dipped a little under her weight. She supposed a _threat_ might have woken him up, but she was hardly a threat. An…inconvenience, at most.

Now closer, it became obvious his sleep wasn’t all that peaceful; he was shaking a little, a thin layer of sweat visible on his skin, even in the darkness.

She stood back up and tiptoed to his en-suite bathroom, finding some cloth and soaking it with cold water, before joining him onto the bed. She lay next to him, this time, pressing the cool cloth to his face. The moment it touched his skin, he let out a sigh in his slumber, and a small waft of golden dust escaped his lips. Her insides twisted at the sight of it, even as she remembered her Human Doctor’s words, about his body being in the process of healing itself.

This knowledge of what he was going through did little to soothe her concern, her throat painfully clenched; she wanted to move closer, bring her other hand to his hair, offer him more comfort…but he’d made it clear earlier he didn’t want her to touch him. Not…directly.

Such a stark difference from what she’d experienced with the other Doctor, tonight.

Although she didn’t regret any of it, she couldn’t help grieving what could have been with this Doctor, too, if he’d only...let her in. Let her comfort him, instead of forcing her to give up on him, always keeping her at arm’s length.

Just as he was now, even in his sleep.

…

Upon awakening and realising that he was not alone in bed anymore, the Doctor didn’t yell.

Well, not out loud.

And well, not at Rose.

He was confused at first, unclear about how she’d ended up lying there, fast asleep, with something that felt like cold, wet fabric pressed to his neck. It didn’t take him long to realise the compress had surely been on his cheek before she fell asleep.

Her face was close enough to his that he felt each slow gust of air escaping her nose. Close enough that every time he breathed in, more deeply than he needed to, he got an intoxicating lungful of her scent.

He stayed like this for a little while. A little long while. Way longer than he should have, considering he wasn’t doing anything besides…watching her sleep.

That was until his shame caught up with him, remembering the way he’d behaved towards her, from everything that happened inside and outside the research facility, to his awakening in the infirmary, when all she’d wanted to do was _help_ him, and he’d shut her down.

He felt the loss of their connection, that throbbing void inside his mind, remembering the way he'd severed it all, every single thread they’d weaved these last couple of weeks, especially the deeper ones that came to be as a result from their telepathic...struggle. If he felt it, she had to have been feeling it, too.

Yet here she was. In his bed. So close he felt the body heat slowly escaping her skin…a silent invitation to move closer and wrap himself around her. Let her wrap herself around him.

He would sink into her warmth, cave in to this need that went beyond any desire to link their minds again, craving genuine touch and comfort, as small as it might be.

Always a coward, he left the bed before that need overwhelmed him, moving carefully; she remained asleep, even when her hand and the cloth slid off his neck to rest on the bed. He stood there a little while longer, watching her, debating whether or not he should wake her up and ask her to leave.

Waking her up would involve _talking_ though. He definitely wasn’t brave enough to talk.

He went to the door instead, only to find that it would not open.

There was only one reason for his room to lock itself like this – which also explained how Rose was able to sneak in while he slept.

That’s when the inner yelling began.

His TARDIS did not budge, going as far as making the handle _disappear_ after he started threatening to go tinker with some of her most delicate components. She refused to take part in this mental row he was trying to get into with her; the most he got from her was one unambiguous message that went something like:

_Quit being an idiot._

Once he accepted the fact that he was trapped, he paced for a while, his annoyance bordering on full blown anger. Anger was a pointless emotion, especially right now, but it also happened to be a _safe_ emotion, one he was familiar with.

He eventually gave up, plonking himself down onto the floor near his bed, leaning back against the side of it.

“Are we stuck in here?”

He couldn’t say he was shocked to hear Rose’s voice.

“Yep.”

There was silence for a few long seconds.

“We don’t have to talk,” she spoke again, quietly.

Not quietly enough for him to miss the weariness in her voice.

“I suspect we won’t be let out until we do,” he admitted.

He moved a little, still leaning against the bed, shifting sideways to look at her; she was lying on her side, her head resting on her bent arm.

Watching him.

“You’re in my bed,” he stated. More an observation than a complaint.

“You’re on the floor,” she noted in turn, before frowning. “Are you on the floor ‘cause I‘m in your bed?”

“Nah.” He shrugged. “Floor’s good. Sturdy and…floor-like.”

“Very astute.”

“That would be me. Floor enthusiast, and astute observation maker.”

Silence stretched as she stared at him, her frown getting more pronounced by the second.

“You look better,” she said, almost carefully. “Sound it, too.”

“I feel better,” he admitted.

After ‘regenerating’ a little, he not only felt completely healthy again, he was rather full of energy, too – which made being trapped in a room particularly difficult.

“Funny what a few hours of sleep can do for you,” he continued. “Being gloomy and defeatist isn’t nearly as appealing as it used to be.”

She didn’t even crack a smile – not that he expected her to. She seemed genuinely taken aback by the sudden resurgence of this particular side of him; he hadn’t exactly let himself _joke _with her much, since she’d been back.

“Is that why you’re not yelling at me?”

That surprised him. “Why would I yell at you?”

She was still frowning, as if trying to decide whether or not he was being serious.

“Because I sneaked in your room and into your bed, after you made it clear you wanted me to stay away?” She averted her eyes, before adding more quietly: “Just like I refused to leave the TARDIS, back in the other universe.” She took a bit of a wobbly breath. “I s’pose I do have a history of not listening to you.”

He did remember doing a bit of yelling, back then. Not something he was particularly proud of, but there weren’t many things he was proud of, as far as his recent behaviour went.

Before he could find the right words to maybe apologise for his shameful attitude, Rose spoke again.

“I don’t mean to be this…pushy.”

He was properly scowling, now. “I wouldn’t call you ‘pushy’,” he replied. “Stubborn, maybe.” He paused. “Obstinate.” Another pause. “Wilful.”

“’s all just synonyms for ‘pushy’, Doctor.”

“Well.” He tilted his head. “They also happen to sound a lot better. _Pushy_ doesn’t quite fit you at all. Makes you sound more like…I don’t know. Your mother.”

Bringing up Jackie was risky, but using her mother as a way to tease her happened to be something he’d done from the moment he’d _met_ the woman and started getting slapped.

It was familiar. Comforting.

A peace offering of sorts.

One that, unsurprisingly, _did_ get him slapped.

It wasn’t a hard slap, hardly a whack on the shoulder, but it was enough to make him smile a little.

“Don’t be mean,” she said, already settling back down.

She’d moved to smack him, now closer to him; his hearts did a couple of summersaults when he saw the small smile pulling at the corners of her lips, too.

They didn’t speak for another long minute, simply looking at one another.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” he said.

She shook her head. “You didn’t.”

He scowled a little. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an arse, then.” She didn’t deny that one. “And I’m sorry for – ”

He stopped, looking away with another rickety exhale, unable to bring up what he’d done to her.

He didn’t expect her to reach out, but the tentative feel of her hand was real, her fingers slowly moving through his hair.

She wasn’t even grazing his scalp, but _oh_…he was so touch-deprived that it took all of his willpower to stop himself from leaning into her hand and let her comfort him the way she clearly wanted to.

He remained very still instead, and this lack of obvious rejection was enough for her to continue with her slow caress.

After another quiet minute, he dared look at her, finding her watching him.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse.

She frowned a little, her fingers still moving carefully through his hair. “What for?”

“For everything you did, back there.” A pause. “For not giving up on me.”

He was including a lot more than what she’d done on Zuitania; judging by the way her lips stretched into another sad smile, she was aware of it, too.

“I’ve been told I can be a bit…obstinate when it comes to saving you,” she admitted softly.

He stared back at her.

“Quite right, too,” he said quietly.

Almost as quietly as he once had, back on a beach.

He wasn’t surprised when her eyes became misty with unshed tears.

“You didn’t get infected,” he stated next.

She looked somewhat taken aback by this abrupt change of tone, understandably so – although she couldn’t be _that_ surprised that he was cowering away from yet another emotional moment.

She shook her head, not even bothering with a verbal answer.

“You got exposed as much as I did,” he insisted. “Yet you weren’t infected.”

Her fingers finally stopped moving. “Maybe I was just lucky.”

It was his turn to shake his head. “That wasn’t luck, Rose.”

She sighed, her hand falling from his hair as she rolled onto her back. “I can’t explain it, or tell you more than I did after Chicago,” she said, warily. “This…_thing_, it just happens whenever I get really hurt. Maybe it’s also protecting me from deadly viruses.”

Although he didn’t want to drop the subject again, more than a little troubled by this ability of hers and what it meant, he found himself rather distracted, his eyes fixed on her neck, which had become more visible in this new position.

“That ability of yours,” he started. “I take it it doesn’t heal bruises.”

She turned her head to look at him. “Doesn’t heal the superficial stuff, no,” she confirmed, before frowning, clearly wondering which bruise he was referring to.

“I know I was quite…rough with you, back there.” His hollow voice rang with self-loathing. “But I’m fairly certain I’m not responsible for that one,” he added, pointing at her neck.

She couldn’t see what he was pointing at, but she seemed to remember the location of the hickey well enough, bringing her hand to it as her cheeks darkened.

“Mmm…” She thought for a moment. “If you wanna be technical about it…you kinda _are_, actually.”

He stared at her, already back to scowling, somewhat appalled by her answer; he’d not expected her to be this…_cheeky_ about it. “Not funny.”

She rolled onto her side to face him again, pushing herself up on one arm, resting her chin upon her palm. “It’s a little funny,” she countered.

Her tone was rather serious, despite the fact that she was claiming this to be _hilarious_.

“We did have sex,” she announced, then.

For the first time in the last few minutes, the urge to escape the room surged through him again, unable to keep looking at her. His eyes settled on the door, aware that the handle had yet to reappear.

“Brilliant,” he heard himself reply in something close to a low bark, not exactly pleased with this new shift in conversation.

“’t was, yeah.”

He looked at her; she wasn’t smiling, staring back at him almost in defiance.

“I really don’t need to hear any of this,” he told her, categorically.

“Yes you do,” she replied just as sternly. “I’m done tiptoeing around the two of you. I’d rather tell you exactly what’s going on, be completely honest with you, just like I am with him.”

The Doctor sprang to his feet, unable to remain seated a second longer. He didn’t even go for the door, resuming his pacing instead, ruffling his hair with a restless hand.

“Your logic is flawed,” he declared. “There’s nothing for you to be honest with him about, nothing regarding ‘us’ anyway, which makes your point rather moot.”

“Bullshit.”

This startled him enough to make him stop pacing, refocusing on her. She’d moved, properly sitting at the edge of his bed, now. She looked…rather annoyed.

He was rather annoyed himself.

“Don’t pretend that bond thing between us is nothing,” she added.

That…_bond thing_?

He looked away, breathing in sharply through his nose, wishing he was wearing his regular outfit, so he could stuff his restless hands in his pockets.

“That ‘_bond thing’_ as you call it isn’t even a thing anymore,” he reminded her, bitterness dripping from his voice. “I took care of that. And I really don’t think you can compare it to you and him being – ” 

He stopped.

“What, Doctor?” she asked, almost daringly. “Lovers?”

He didn’t deny it, going as far as staring right back at her. She looked as hurt as she was incensed.

“Maybe going into people’s minds and bonding with them is just like shaking hands to you, but it wasn’t to me,” she told him, a lot more quietly. “It felt…intimate. Just as intimate as it is, to share my body with a lover.”

Her voice was thick with hurt, her face flushed, her eyes too bright again. He had to look away as his shame throbbed, closing his eyes and swallowing hard, rubbing at his forehead. He took a moment to collect himself, to settle both his hearts, which were beating too fast.

When he felt brave enough to look at her, she hadn’t moved, still sitting at the edge of his bed, looking up at him.

_Hurt_.

“I’m sorry,” he said yet again, his voice quiet and hoarse. “That was rude of me, to dismiss it like that.” He swallowed. “This bond I have with you, it’s more than I –" 

He couldn’t finish, the words getting choked up in his throat.

“I just…” He took another shaky breath. “I’ve always struggled with the whole ‘_intimacy thing’_, to use some of your words. Especially the physical kind.”

“I’ve noticed, yeah.”

His eyes widened in genuine surprise. “You have?”

While Rose had been steadily oscillating between frustration and hurt in the last couple of minutes, something in his tone caused her wariness to falter.

“Well, yeah,” she said more softly, frowning a little. “I just figured you weren’t into sex and all that stuff.”

This seemed to baffle him, judging by the look on his face.

“Not sure why you’re so surprised by this,” she admitted with a small scowl of her own.

“I…” He swallowed again. “You’re human.”

She peered at him. “Yes?”

“Sex is a really important part of intimate relationships in your species.”

“Only if you look at it in a really narrow-minded way,” she said. “It’s a lot more complicated than that, though. Sex’s not actually a mandatory aspect of intimate relationships, not that it should be.”

His scowl was now matching her frown. “You do enjoy it, though.”

She couldn’t stop her face from warming up a little more. While it was odd, talking about this with him, to her tired, confused brain, she also happened to _have_ had sex with him a couple of times already.

“I enjoy making my lover feel good,” she answered carefully. “And yeah, not gonna lie, the reciprocity is nice, too.” _This_ caused him to look away again, his scowl more a glower, now. “Doesn’t mean I need sex, though,” she continued. “Is that why you’ve been pushing me away? D’you really think I won’t have a relationship with you because you don’t like sex?”

“I never said I didn’t like sex,” he corrected her, rather quickly.

This was giving her a headache.

He must have noticed her confusion, because he carried on: “It’s more about it…not being an instinctive drive for me, the way it is for most humans. The way it is for _him_, now, I suppose.” He averted his eyes. “My species perfected the art of initiating intimacy ‘at a distance’ through telepathy long before they started reproducing using Looms, which made things like sex pretty obsolete. It doesn’t mean that I haven’t engaged in it, or won’t do it again. I do get the appeal.”

Rose was fairly certain his counterpart had said something extremely similar to her only a few days ago, once again overwhelming her with a feeling of déjà-vu that bordered on dissociation, her brain struggling to _separate_ them both into their distinct entities.

She forced herself to refocus fully on the jittery Doctor standing only a couple of meters away from her.

“What about hugging?” she asked, moving the conversation away from something he obviously struggled to talk about.

It did the trick, watching as he frowned again.

“Hugging?”

“You know. Arms around one another. Squeezing a little, or even a lot.”

His newest scowl was his best one yet.

“I know what hugging – ” He stopped himself, huffing a little. “Of course I like hugging. Love the hugging. You know that, too.”

She shrugged as a familiar, heavy kind of weariness settled upon her. “’m not too sure about anything anymore,” she admitted quietly. “The _you_ I used to travel with before we were separated? Yeah, that you definitely loved the hugging. But ever since I’ve been back…”

She shrugged again, taking a wobbly breath.

“We’ve shared a few ‘mind connections’ or whatever you call it,” she continued wearily. “A couple of kisses, too. But there’s not been much hugging at all. You’ve just…kept me at arm’s length. Kept me from getting close to you.”

He looked rather distressed, now, unable to maintain eye contact.

“I know,” he admitted, his voice too hoarse again. “I’m not proud of it either. But I…” He grimaced a little, squinting his eyes. “I’m only trying to do the right thing. Having you close makes it very hard not to just…”

“…give in?” she finished for him, remembering a conversation they once had near a pool.

He clenched his jaws, as if debating whether or not to answer, before nodding a little, still not looking at her.

Rose had heard enough.

“I get why you’ve got reservations,” she told him quietly. “This situation is…” She shook her head. “I don’t think the word ‘complicated’ is strong enough. Without even bringing up your other self, I haven’t forgotten any of that stuff you’ve told me before, you know. I get why it’s hard for you, to let yourself be vulnerable with people you know are gonna leave you. Especially a withering human like me, just passing through your long life.”

He inhaled loudly through his nose, well aware that this was a painful topic for him. He did meet her gaze, though, his eyes red-rimmed.

Rose decided to go all in.

“I get all that,” she said. “But I love you.”

She simply stared back at him as he swallowed hard.

“You pushing me away isn’t just unfair to me, it’s unfair to you, too,” she continued. “I’m just…really tired of being cast aside, of watching you deny yourself some comfort and love, over and over. ‘cause that’s all I want to give you, Doctor. In whatever way you’re comfortable with.”

His eyes were definitely too bright now, averting his gaze as he swallowed again, almost convulsively, now.

“It’s not wise to love me.”

Her heart squeezed painfully. “Why’s that?”

She had a pretty good idea what he was going to say, but she wanted to hear it from him.

“I’m not…” He closed his eyes, his face constricting. “The person I became yesterday, when I was infected? It’s part of me. It’s who I can be, who I would be if I just…”

He couldn’t finish.

“Look at me,” she said.

When he did, meeting her gaze dead on, the pain she saw in there was familiar, as was the ache in her chest.

She stood up, although she didn’t come closer to him; she wanted to reach out to him, touch him, but she didn’t want to overstep his boundaries.

“The fact that you struggle with a ridiculous amount of self-loathing doesn’t make you unworthy of love,” she told him quietly. “Pretty much everyone struggles with a darker side that’s just begging to come out. Most of us don’t let it out, ‘cause we’ve got self-control. And a working conscience. Yours just happens to be stronger than most.”

She paused to give him time to take in her words, and from the look in his eyes, he was struggling to accept it.

“You really do, Doctor,” she insisted softly. “You could be bitter and angry all the time. You could decide to act like a vengeful God and burn entire worlds to the ground. You certainly would have enough reasons to lose it and not give a damn. Yet you don’t. You choose to do good instead, even after all these years. You’re a lot stronger than you think.”

He took in a couple of wobbly breaths, shaken by her words.

“You’re really not going to let me wallow, are you?” he eventually asked with some difficulty.

She shook her head. “Pretty sure you’ve used up your wallowing quota for the next…few years.”

He let out a small, breathless sound, too tired and broken for it to be a chuckle, his eyes already closing again. He looked like every single one of these centuries he’d lived through were pressing down on him.

_Not_ touching him had become unbearable.

“Can I hug you now?” she whispered, nearly pleading.

His sloppy nod was immediate, as was his one-word, winded response: “Please.”

She walked to him, coming to stand as close as she could get, before gently wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face to his chest. Even though he’d consented to this, he didn’t immediately respond, as if too shell-shocked.

After a few seconds, he finally let go, giving in to her and her embrace, his muscles relaxing yet tensing in different ways as he gathered her close, as close as he could get her, holding on to her as tightly as she was holding on to him, his next wobbly exhale lost in her hair.

There was a small sound further in the room, the noise of something _unlocking_.

Still holding on to one another, they turned their heads and gazes towards the door. The handle had reappeared.

Rose knew that if he tried leaving the room again, the TARDIS would let him. She looked up at him, part of her expecting him to do just that; release her and escape.

He raised a hand to her face instead, cupping her cheek as he leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. The renewed tension in his every muscle confirmed that he was already back to fighting with himself, fighting off his own desire to bond with her.

She understood his reluctance, aware of the guilt probably eating away at him after what had happened yesterday; the fact alone that he had initiated this skin-to-skin contact meant that he _wanted_ to, though.

As long as she was willing.

She opened her mind and reached out, just as she had before, including on Zuitania. He responded at once, and the part of her mind that had been throbbing in emptiness filled up with warmth as she _felt_ him again.

She felt his guilt and his pain and his sheer relief, along with this deep yearning for her, longing to simply get lost a little deeper in her, always a little deeper.

Even though her arms were physically around him, clinging to him, she pictured herself running her hand through his hair…except that she wasn’t doing it with her hand – or to his hair, for that matter. Still, she projected the sensation inward, this comforting caress, threading the tendrils of her mind through his, the way her fingers would through his hair, soothing his very self.

His response was unequivocal, feeling him shudder physically and _else_, and what had been a steady beam of warmth slowly morphed into a pulse. One of her hands moved over his back, her nails raking down his shirt, another sensation she projected upon his mind. It caused his second hand to nearly jump to her face to increase the connection as he exhaled heavily, so close to her lips.

She realised how _passive_ he’d been when he began really reciprocating, as always way more adept at this than she was.

The press of him against her mind was gentle compared to what she’d felt last night, but it remained powerful, both of them instantly aware of that _ache_ he’d left in his trail.

His remorse peaked, nearly overwhelming her, even as he began retreating from her mind.

She moved, unwrapping her arms from around him to grab at both his hands framing her face, clinging and keeping them from moving.

“Stay…” she breathed out, even as her own mind _clenched_, hoping he would feel just how much she _wanted_ him there, inside of her.

He felt it, felt it all, the heated pulse stronger, deeper, his hands tightening on her face; she was struggling to keep up with her awareness of the _physical_ again, but she remained aware enough to realise how much she was responding to him, shivering every time his hot breath scorched her lips, her body becoming as aroused as her mind was, longing for some…_pressure_.

He picked up on that thought, already pushing them onwards, until she was falling back onto his bed, with him on top of her. She was struck by another déjà-vu, the feel of him so familiar and intimate above her, her body keen to respond – more thoughts she couldn’t conceal.

There was no negative response from him; she knew he’d felt it, probably got more than a few glimpses at these recent memories that flashed across her mind. He acknowledged them all, before nudging the thoughts away, losing no time at all in mimicking some of what he’d seen, though. When he rolled his hips into hers, she realised how much he was physically responding to her, too, the feel of him sending a surge of heat through her core and both their minds, moaning his name as the intensity of the pulse increased.

His focus staggered when she sneaked a hand inside his loose trousers and grabbed at the firm muscles of his bum, increasing the pressure between their clothed bodies. The heat she felt in her mind was all _him_, and she used this opportunity to concentrate all of her energy on it, grabbing at it; even though he was physically above her, as far as their minds were concerned, she was now the one on top.

She was moving, swaying and _squeezing_, turning that pulse of his into proper momentum, rocking in pace with him.

It was messy and rather unfocused, Rose acting on intuitions more than on any real skill, but it didn’t seem to matter, judging by the surges of pleasure that began swelling steadily through him with every squeeze of her mind, or how he was nothing short of _pleading_ her not to stop.

He’d turned into putty in both her hands and mind, physically rocking upon her in a succession of irregular sways as he tried to create more friction, choked up moans falling upon her face.

She’d become a wildfire, blazing and burning and all consuming, unrelenting in the sheer strength of her love for him, unwilling to ever let him go, holding to him so tight oh _so tight_.

When his pleasure broke, the intensity of it nearly took her over the edge with him.

Nearly.

It passed through her like a heatwave, warming up every inch of her…leaving her hanging by nothing but a thread.

His body was still shaking with aftershocks that he was moving – albeit not physically.

He plunged into her mind, until she found herself reliving a recent memory, propelled straight back in the middle of it, clenching at his hair with his head squeezed between her thighs as he worked on her. Sensations didn’t usually carry well through memories, as opposed to emotions, but whatever he was doing to her mind was taking care of that, quite able to _feel_ the heat of his mouth and tongue as it pressed and moved upon her.

Except that it wasn’t…_him_, not really. Not his tongue, not his hair or his lips but _god_ she was getting there fast again, fast and hard, overwhelming pleasure crashing through her nervous system until she was arching up against him, crying out as she yielded to this blissful oblivion.

She felt him gently retreating from her mind, the way he had many times before, although he didn’t completely sever the connection this time, still able to…sense him, a warm presence deep inside of her, just like she remained inside of him.

He was…content.

He was also heavy, lying limp upon her, his face pressed to her neck.

She didn’t mind.

“That was cheating,” she eventually managed to articulate, breathless.

“Mmm…” The small vibrations against her skin caused her to shiver again. “If you wanna be technical about it, that was still all…me.”

“Funny.”

Judging by the low rumble that reverberated from his chest through hers, he thought so, too.

While she couldn’t help but smile a little at his reaction, said smile quickly froze on her lips, as she realised this might be the first time she heard something resembling a laugh from him since she’d been back. Not that she’d done much of that herself either.

Remembering how carefree they used to be ‘back then’, how often they used to laugh together, made the contrast all the more bittersweet and painful.

Her sterner attitude could be attributed to the inevitable loss of innocence that came with getting older and experiencing this thing called life. It was different for him. She was more or less aware of the many hardships and horrors he’d experienced before she met him; travelling with her had brought some light back into his life.

Losing her had obviously done the opposite.

Soft warmth spread through her, even as he moved off her. He didn’t go far, coming to rest on his side, most of their bodies still touching, keeping one of his hands on her face, cupping her flushed cheek.

“It wasn’t losing you,” he said quietly, confirming that their connection was still intense enough for him to…‘read’ her. Sensing her scepticism, he tilted his head a little. “Well. It wasn’t _just_ losing you.”

Somehow, this did not make her feel better.

Here he was, his own skin a shade darker than usual, his hair a beautiful damp mess in her hand, his eyes still hazy with the remnants of pleasure, more relaxed and _open_ than he’d ever been with her.

And she couldn’t enjoy it, couldn’t bask in it.

“Am I being selfish?” she asked, the lump in her throat causing the words to come out in a constricted whisper.

She felt his confusion as much as she saw it in his eyes, his distress at seeing and feeling _her_ distressed.

“Selfish?”

She swallowed hard, her fingers clenching lightly at his hair, struggling to put this emotion into words, to make it into something he could sense.

“All these times you pushed me away, you were just trying to protect yourself,” she whispered. “Am I just…dooming you to more misery down the road, by forcing you into this?”

His eyes weren’t all that hazy anymore as he stared back at her, quickly shaking his head once, decidedly, and she felt this certitude, amongst a mess of other emotions, struggling to read him anywhere as well as he was reading her.

“You’re not forcing me into anything,” he reassured her, his voice low and husky, yet inflexible. “I’m tired of fighting with myself.” He sounded it, too. “Literally and figuratively. And I…”

He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath, struggling to say the words, even as she felt the intensity of it wash through her, causing a couple of tears to seep out.

When he reopened his eyes, he used his thumb to wipe some of them away, just like her other Doctor had done, earlier.

“I’ve lived for a very long time, Rose,” he said, his voice thick. “And I’ve been very lonely. Before and after meeting you. I’ve lived long enough and been lonely enough to know misery is an unavoidable part of it all. Loving you, even if it means losing you again someday…” He shook his head. “That’s not misery. That’s what kept me fighting. What will keep me fighting, long after you’re gone.”

He wasn’t even trying to keep up with her tears anymore, letting them roll. When she curled her fingers in his hair, he let himself be pulled, kissing her with something resembling reverence.

“I love you…” he murmured against her lips, before pressing a kiss to her jaw, to the curve of her neck. “I love you…”

As he whispered the words again and again into her skin, she wrapped herself tightly around him, letting the strength of his love swallow her whole, mesmerised above all else by the tentative hope that pulsed steadily through their bond.

If _he_ was allowing himself to hope…maybe she could, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes holding on to _hope_ is all we can do, my lovelies. Don’t let the darkness win. Lift each other up, be kind, and do what you can to bring on POSITIVE changes.
> 
> And if you want to share some hope with me, leaving me a little comment is always a sure way to brighten my day ♥


	24. Fallouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giving into passion does not necessarily fix things. Sometimes, it even complicates them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been very scattered these last couple of months, creatively speaking (as in, working on way too many different projects). But as this fic nears its first birthday (ahhh!), I am well decided on seeing it through. According to my story notes, it should be around thirty chapters when I’m done with it. We’re getting there.
> 
> As always when time flies like this, I recommend you reread at least the last chapter, but to summarize: Following their rather (in)tense adventure in an infected building (in which Ten got infected), things got a bit…physical and emotional between Rose and each of her Doctors.
> 
> I think the title of this chapter says it all xD

**Chapter Twenty-Four – Fallouts**

She was nearly lulled into sleep by the sound of his voice.

Despite both her mind and body needing the rest, she fought the feeling every time it sneaked up on her. Whenever she felt herself slipping into that place between awareness and dreams, she tethered herself back, focusing on anything besides his voice; the steady beats of his hearts beneath her ear…his breath in her hair…the soft press of his fingers upon her skin, where his hand rested heavily against her side.

She was solely responsible for the flow of words steadily coming out of him. Once she’d been able to talk again, she’d asked him to tell her about his life after Canary Wharf, about his most memorable adventures with Martha and Donna, still trying to fill that gap in their timeline, that hazy stretch of time between losing him and finding him again.

He talked about meeting Shakespeare and Agatha Christie, of watching Pompeii disappear in fire and ashes, of going to the end of the universe and back. While he spoke, she experienced the echoes of everything he’d felt, to the point where when he told her about the Oods he and Donna freed from captivity, she _heard_ music in her mind, felt it swell in her heart, bringing more tears to her eyes.

Sleep and tears weren’t the only things she ended up fighting with. She’d been able to ignore that other sensation for a while, just as she ignored her drowsiness, but her discomfort had become too distracting.

She was _starving_.

Whoever had claimed sex could replace food clearly didn’t know what they were talking about; if anything else, sex was responsible for how hungry she was. The fact that it’d been at least a day since she’d eaten anything save for some cereal flakes was not helping.

“Waffles.”

His warm voice pulled her out of yet another daze, one spent primarily daydreaming about food.

She smiled lazily against his shirt. “Is that a request?”

He let out a soundless chuckle in her hair. “More like a hopeful suggestion,” he said, his tone delightfully chipper. “You’re starving, and to be honest, I could go for some food myself.”

She was far from being proficient at this, but she understood enough to realise he’d changed the quality of their bond at some point; it was still there, but…dimmer, their emotions gently trickling from one to the other, instead of taking over everything the way it had earlier.

Still strong enough for him to know how hungry she was.

Rose shifted against him until she was lying on her side, more on the bed than upon him, although she kept her body snuggly pressed up to his, simply because she could. When she looked up, she met his gaze at once, sharp and intense.

Soft, too.

_“I’m tired of fighting with myself,”_ he’d told her earlier – among other things.

It baffled her, all of it, so used to being shut down, she would never have expected to find herself _cuddling_ with the Doctor, part of her still convinced that everything that had happened was just a very elaborate and vivid dream.

A small smile tugged at his lips, having sensed that, too. He brought a hand up to cup her cheek, pulling her face to his as he leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers, and the sensations that soon trickled through her were…warm, and comforting.

_Not a dream_, his mind whispered as it curled around hers and her fingers curled in his hair, her toes digging into his leg; she pressed onward to kiss him, shivering when she felt him gathering her always a little bit tighter, body and mind.

The moment was somewhat ruined by the sound her stomach made, then, protesting in a loud rumble that went on for an embarrassingly long time. The Doctor let out a gush of air against her lips, sensing his amusement through their bond.

“Waffles it is, then,” she capitulated.

When Rose finally put some physical distance between them, it muted their bond almost completely. It was nothing like what it’d felt like when he’d severed it the day before; she still…felt him. She couldn’t communicate with him, or know what he was feeling anymore, but his presence in her mind was almost tangible.

He didn’t go to the kitchen with her, admitting with a small pout that he did need to shower. She probably could have used another one of those herself, but she’d become too obsessed with the prospect of _eating_ to worry much about anything else.

She didn’t realise how woozy she was until she was out of his room and walking. Her dizziness wasn’t just caused by hunger, though.

This almost felt like a _high_ of some kind, still experiencing an odd disconnect between her mind and body, unaware of much besides some unavoidable soreness – and her state of near starvation. It had to be caused by all these happy chemicals overflooding her blood, combined with the rather intense telepathic ‘joining’ she’d recently been part of.

“Bless you, girl,” she soon found herself praising the TARDIS.

Not only had the ship brought the kitchen only a couple of doors down from his room, Rose also found everything she needed to make waffles as soon as she stepped in there – including a few bananas.

She’d only just started mixing ingredients together, slowly reconnecting with her surroundings, when the door opened behind her.

“That was quick,” she noted, already smiling. When she heard the door closing and there was no reply, she glanced over her shoulder.

The Doctor had stepped in all right, but it wasn’t the Doctor she’d just left, meeting his eyes through a pair of spectacles.

“Oh…hi,” she breathed out, flustered, immediately aware that her reaction made it obvious she’d been expecting his counterpart.

“Hello,” he replied.

While his tone was on the soft side, there was no hint of a smile on his lips; he definitely looked tensed as he stood there by the door, hands deep in the pockets of his trousers. He’d dressed up in his brown suit again, had gone as far as shaving, from what she could see.

Even from a distance, the bruise on his jaw stood out, having darkened in recent hours.

She couldn’t help but blush as she remembered the hickey on her own neck, the one he’d put there. She also remembered everything that had happened as a result from his counterpart noticing said hickey.

Rose didn’t feel that high anymore, suddenly quite self-conscious; although the other Doctor hadn’t left any visible mark on her – she’d not even taken a single piece of clothing off while in his room, she knew she had to look a bit…ruffled, not to mention dazed by her busy night’s activities.

She may not share a telepathic bond with this Doctor, the bond they did share made nonverbal communication rather effective in its own right. Judging by the look on his face as he took her in, he was able to deduce a few things just fine.

“Mind setting the table?” she asked, trying to fight off the unease growing between them, just as unwilling to let herself be overtaken by guilt or remorse.

He’d _encouraged_ her to go to his other self, hadn’t he?

She focused back on her waffle mix before he could answer. When he finally moved, going for one of the cupboards, she relaxed a little. She glanced his way as he extracted some plates, relieved to see he’d grabbed three of them…until she realised what it meant.

The three of them were about to have _breakfast_ together. Sitting around the same table.

Eating waffles.

It wasn’t like she’d imagined both Doctors would remain trapped on opposite sides of the ship for the rest of eternity while she merrily went from one to the other, pretending this was absolutely ordinary but…she hadn’t exactly given any thoughts to this inevitable ‘confrontation’ either.

If she were honest with herself, she had not planned on these last twelve hours to happen _at all_.

The last time she’d been in this very room with him, she’d convinced herself she was going to leave the TARDIS for good, done with letting them break her heart repeatedly over their inability to let her in. She was more than a little taken aback by the turns of events, taken aback and unprepared.

Mostly in a _good way_, obviously, but she still felt ill-equipped to deal with the implications of what they’d all done.

“Tea?”

Even this simple offer from him was way too polite and stiff, confirming how uncomfortable he felt himself.

“Please,” she answered just as stiffly.

She finished pouring the mix into the waffle maker, closing it securely before turning to take a better look at him as he busied himself with hot water, only a short distance from her. Despite his best efforts, being all dressed and clean-shaven, there remained this soft, dishevelled air about him – one that was all _him_.

Maybe it was his hair, somehow always even more unkempt than his counterpart’s, or how his shirt collar was not properly tucked in. Maybe it was the way his specs kept sliding down his nose, her fingers itching to push them back up, as much as she itched to bury her whole hand in that hair.

In the end, she knew a lot of it had to do with how he simply couldn’t hide as well as he used to, as well as the other Doctor still managed to hide, even from her. She did not need to read his mind to know he was struggling with this renewed tension between them, along with whatever inner battle he seemed to be fighting again, one in which he undoubtedly remained his own worst enemy, in one form or another.

Although he’d kept some distance between them, still focused on the hot water he was now pouring into a teapot, he was close enough for her to touch him. Which she did, unabashed, reaching up and sinking a hand into his messy hair, simply because she _could_ and wanted to.

He initially tensed at her touch, but he swiftly relaxed when he met her eyes and she offered him a small smile.

“Hello,” she said quietly, in a proper greeting, this time.

Something like relief flashed in his eyes, more tension leaving him as he leaned into her touch.

“Hello,” he replied, his voice just as low.

She curled her fingers in his hair, exerting some pressure to encourage him to come closer. He did so willingly, invading her space, her body almost humming in sheer fondness and relief when she felt him leaning into her, bringing his face closer still.

His lips never found hers, the door opening just then.

The Doctor stepped back at the sound, pulling his body away from hers, and Rose’s fingers slipped from his hair. She glanced at the entrance to confirm the other Doctor had indeed just walked in, dressed in the exact same suit, his lips already pinched as he stared at his counterpart.

She looked up at her Human Doctor, who stared back at himself with a matching expression, his eyes slightly narrowed, his lips thin.

For a couple of seconds, the only sound in the room was the low _hiss_ of the waffle maker.

“Bananas?” Rose found herself asking.

It…worked, to some extent, now stared at by not one but two scowling Doctors.

“I mean, as a topping,” she breathed out, her cheeks warming up.

This wasn’t just weird.

It was _bizarre_.

She may have been quite at ease with them individually, this was something else altogether. The fact that they usually barely got along in the first place was not helping, that bruise on the Human Doctor’s face a reminder of that. Sure, the circumstances that had led to them fighting had been exceptional, but she couldn’t shake off how violent that fight had been.

She was overtaken by a new flurry of doubts, the prospect of having something as innocent as a meal together nothing short of overwhelming, hating that the main emotions twisting at her insides were discomfort and unease.

To her surprise, the Time Lord Doctor was the first to speak.

“You know me,” he said, his scowl having softened into something closer to a smirk. “I never say no to bananas.”

It dawned on her that he was probably sensing some of her apprehension; this was his way of trying to help her relax, by being…compliant.

Unfortunately, this awareness of him sensing her while he stood only a few meters away from a Doctor who _couldn’t_ only made her feel bad on the other man’s behalf, worried that this might make his insecurities flare up again.

She quickly averted her eyes, completely at a loss as to what to do; out of desperation, she grabbed one of the cups the Human Doctor had gotten out, and filled it up with tea.

“Help yourselves, then,” she told them in a breath, sitting down at the table while avoiding _all_ of their gazes, well aware of the way they were still staring at her.

She didn’t need to say anything else, her unease obvious enough, silently letting them know they could finish getting everything ready. She pretended to be focusing on the warm mug between her hands when really, she was observing them from the corner of her eye.

Before long, they were back to behaving like two magnets repelling one another as they moved through the kitchen; whenever one of them came too close, the other would shuffle and scuttle away, as if being in the same space was a physical impossibility, the Human Doctor eventually settling with looking after the waffles, while the other one began chopping bananas.

There was something disturbingly domestic about it all, which only made the awkwardness worse, Rose not exactly surprised when they quickly reverted back to their favourite coping mechanism.

“These waffled are undercooked.” Time Lord Doctor.

“Well, those slices aren’t thin enough, yet you don’t hear me criticising your chopping skills.” Human Doctor.

“It might be so, but while I trust your teeth to be able to chew on bigger pieces of fruit, forcing us to eat undercooked waffles sounds pretty vile to me.”

There was a loud metallic sound as the Human Doctor snapped the waffle maker close again, agreeing to let the food cook longer, also shutting his counterpart up in the process.

For her part, Rose’s unease was worsening by the second, and it wasn’t simply caused by their ridiculous behaviour. Her giddy haze was completely gone, now, more realisations hitting her, one after the other.

Their failure to behave as a unit in something as trivial as _breakfast_ made it glaringly obvious that ‘this’ was not working, and she was just as responsible as these two for letting it get this far.

She may have been exhausted and vulnerable last night, which explained why she’d so readily jumped into their arms, reality was coming back running, now; in the harsh light of day, it was much more difficult to ignore the fact that actions had consequences.

_Especially_ the careless kind of actions.

A cold wave washed through her as she sat there, not hearing a single word of what they were saying anymore, the sound of their voices drown out by the rush of blood against her ears.

“Rose?”

The bickering had stopped.

She only realised she’d taken her head in her hands when she dropped them again and looked up, finding both men staring at her. The Time Lord Doctor was frowning, his brow creased in concern, an emotion she felt dimly through their bond, the very bond that had alerted him to her sudden anxiety.

She did not keep her gaze on this Doctor, though, staring at his more human counterpart instead, finding the same crease between his eyes.

“We need to talk,” she told him, subdued. “Alone,” she added even more quietly, glancing back at the other Doctor.

His entire frame tensed, but he did not move. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we can – ”

“No.” Her voice wasn’t unkind, but it was unequivocal, too. “I don’t want to shut you out, but…this is something the two of us need to discuss together, first. Privately.”

She was barely done telling him that she didn’t want to shut him out that she was _feeling_ him closing himself off, as much as she saw it. He might still be near her, physically, he was already more…distant.

He didn’t argue, though, simply nodding stiffly. She couldn’t look at him as he left the kitchen, fighting against the prickles in her eyes, wondering if she’d just ruined all the progress they’d made.

This was better than the alternative of having him stay in the room while she said what had to be said, though.

“What’s wrong?”

The remaining Doctor’s voice was thick with concern, finding a matching expression on his face when she met his eyes. He hadn’t moved, still leaning back against a counter.

No point in stalling.

“We weren’t safe,” she announced.

He blinked at her. “Not…safe?”

A small rush of frustration surged through her, an emotion she quickly fought off; it’d taken her _this_ long to realise what they’d done (or not done). He was allowed a few moments to get there.

“We didn’t use any protection,” she clarified.

He blinked again, genuinely confused.

Until he wasn’t anymore, understanding flashing in his eyes.

“Oh.”

He straightened up, a hand already jumping to the back of his head as he averted his eyes.

“Uhm…”

“Yeah,” Rose breathed out.

“Is that…” He stopped and cleared his throat, dropping his hand to push his glasses back up his nose, before taking a hold of the counter behind him, as if for support. “Is that a problem?”

She stared at him, her cheeks flushing hot with renewed frustration.

“You tell me,” she said, a bit sternly. “You’re the one who’s part human, now. Unless you can assure me there’s a zero probability of me getting pregnant from having unprotected sex with you, then yeah, it’s a problem.”

Hearing the word _pregnant_ successfully drained what little colour was left on his face. They definitely didn’t need to share a telepathic bond for her to empathise with his growing panic.

He looked so shaken by her bombshell that her irritation deflated as quickly as it had swelled.

Before she could say anything else, they both became aware of the smell, which was immediately joined by smoke, all of which was coming straight from the waffle maker.

“Bloody_ hell_,” he cursed under his breath as he snapped the machine open, releasing more smoke into the room.

He quickly carried the whole thing to the sink, dumping the carbonised waffles into it, soon letting out another swear word, one that rang with pain, bringing his fingers to his mouth, having apparently burned himself in his haste.

Rose had already joined him, pulling his hand from his face as she turned the cold water on, soon sticking his fingers under the tap. He kept them there while she leaned heavily against his side, her cheek pressed to his arm, feeling just how tense he was.

“At least no one will ever accuse you of undercooking waffles again,” she said as they both stared at the mush of burnt, saggy waffles in the sink.

Just as she’d hoped, her lame attempt at humour worked a little, feeling some of his muscles relax as he let out of small scoff. When she looked away from their hands to watch his profile, there was no smile on his face, though, his skin pale, if not for some patches of pink, high on his cheekbones.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse.

He clearly wasn’t talking about their ruined breakfast.

She shook her head against him, shifting just enough so she could bring her free hand to his hair again, his eyes closing at the sensation. She was still leaning most of her weight against him, the pressure comforting them both.

“’m not blaming this on you,” she reassured him, and he reopened his eyes, meeting her gaze. “We both messed up. Takes two to tango, yeah?”

He grimaced a little, eventually nodding. “What’s next, then?”

She shook her head. “Not sure. I’m assuming you don’t have anything on this ship resembling a morning-after pill.”

He shook his head in turn. “I don’t exactly make it a habit to…you know.”

Yeah, she did.

“I do need to get my hands on something like that, though,” she said. “Sooner rather than later would be best.”

He was already grimacing again. “That might be a bit hard to do without telling him where we’re going. Or why.”

She leaned back against his arm, cheek pressed to his jacket as she stared at the cold water, sprouting from the tap.

“Then we tell him.”

…

Being asked to step out of a room so the other two could converse privately did not feel good.

For a while there, he nearly walked _away_ away, not caring much where he’d go, as long as it was as far from the kitchen as possible, already wondering what exactly had come over him, that he’d allowed himself to bring his guard down like this and be hurt.

He didn’t walk away, in the end, swallowing his pride; the answer to his question was simple: _Rose_ was what had come over him.

Over him, through him, within him. All that and beyond.

Regenerative sleep may have healed his body last night, _she_ was solely responsible for the deep hum still thrumming through his very self. The memory of what it had felt like, to meld with her so completely, could easily sustain him for the next few centuries…but he would be an absolute fool to risk losing her again, because of a bruised ego.

From what he’d seen while in her mind, he knew she would have left, had his counterpart not stepped up. _This_ was an opportunity for him to prove he meant what he’d said, earlier. He’d also sensed enough of her anxiety in that kitchen to realise she was only trying to handle whatever was going on as best she could.

If anything else, he didn’t have to wait long. He only spent a few minutes standing there, leaning against the wall opposite the kitchen door, before it opened again.

Rose stopped in her tracks when she spotted him; he couldn’t blame her for looking this surprised at finding him there.

He did have a history of hiding and pouting when offended.

His counterpart was right behind her, looking a bit paler than he did earlier. He kept his focus on Rose, though, who seemed to grow more uncomfortable by the second.

Unwilling to be shut down yet again, the Doctor did not say anything at all, waiting for one of them to speak first.

His metacrisis self broke the silence.

“We need to go to a medical station,” he said, not meeting his eyes. “One that specialises in humans.”

The Doctor frowned, beyond confused, now. When he looked back at Rose, she’d averted her eyes, chewing on the inside of her lip. He couldn’t understand why they needed to seek medical help outside their TARDIS; she did not look ill, or in pain.

Whatever it was, she was extremely reluctant to tell him about it.

He wished he hadn’t dimmed their connection so much, unable to use it to try figuring out what was going on. He would have to touch her again to properly reconnect with her, and he highly doubted she would let him spark their bond open here, not with his counterpart standing right behind her.

“Rose?” He spoke her name quietly, not even trying to conceal the concern from his voice.

She raised her head and looked back at him, her cheeks flushing a little.

“I need emergency contraception,” she admitted, her voice even quieter than his had been, not saying anything else.

She only managed to hold his gaze a couple more seconds before she looked away again, a hand going up to her face, nibbling at her thumbnail. When he focused on his counterpart, he wasn’t looking at him either.

They looked like two people fully expecting to be scolded.

_That_ hurt, too.

Given his track record, he couldn’t even blame them, but it still didn’t feel good, to realise he’d been so unpleasant, they both expected him to react badly, if not angrily.

He wasn’t angry, though.

He wasn’t even annoyed, or frustrated, having seen enough while in her mind to understand that there hadn’t been much room for rational thinking at the time.

What he felt was…wistful.

The feeling surprised him, although it wasn’t entirely unexpected either. It was an emotion he’d felt more than once, whenever he truly stopped and thought about all these things his counterpart could give Rose, all these things he would never be able to give her.

Including children.

“Very well,” he said after a long pause. “Any of the human colonies from the Argos Rho system will do. They’re known for their advanced work in that area, especially around the fiftieth century.”

They were both looking at him, now, but he did not meet any of their gazes.

He couldn’t.

When he turned and started to walk away, his mind already set on the control room, Rose did exactly what he should have expected her to do, just as she’d done only half a day ago, in another corridor.

“Hey,” she called out softly, having caught up with him and reached out to grab his hand.

When her mind reached out, too, he didn’t deny her.

He felt her inner conflict and anxiety, along with some embarrassment for putting herself in this situation in the first place. There was guilt, too, over what it was doing to him.

He met her gaze, finding the same mix of emotions in her eyes. Unwilling to let her blame herself more than she already was, he squeezed her fingers, sending a wave of reassurance through their bond, not entirely able to conceal these other feelings clutching at his hearts.

“Go get dressed,” he told her quietly. “We’ll take you somewhere safe.”

When he released her hand, she let him go.

…

She wasn’t given a pill, but an injection.

Dr. Alyssa Miller, the practitioner who was taking care of her, hadn’t lied; the moment Rose felt the painful prickle under her skin, a great deal of her anxiety dissipated, trusting that the chemicals rushing through her bloodstream would ensure this complicated situation didn’t get even more complicated.

She wouldn’t go as far as saying she was feeling _better_, though. Her every limb were kind of cottony, and she felt lightheaded again.

Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe she shouldn’t have worried so much, as they didn’t even know if the part-human Doctor was fertile. She sure wasn’t willing to take that risk, though.

Back when she was in school, too many young girls from her year or above had ended up pregnant long before they were ready to become mothers, simply from lack of care; she’d promised herself back then that she would never become one of them.

Yet here she was, nearly a decade later – or thirty centuries later, depending on how she looked at it – with some kind of futuristic drug coursing through her blood.

There was no point in beating herself up more than she already had, she knew that, too; these things just _happened_, and they’d been reasonable enough to deal with it quickly.

She couldn’t shake off the unease twisting at her guts, though. That oppressing feeling of not really being in control anymore, of having bitten off more than she could chew.

“Now that this is taken care of, do you want to discuss birth control options?”

Rose refocused on the woman still standing in front of her, taking notes on her digital notepad.

“I…”

This was _not_ a difficult question, yet Rose found herself floundering.

Dr. Miller looked up from her pad, observing her with a keen eye. “It’s just something for you to think about. If you’re likely to have more sexual intercourse in the future, it would put your mind at ease.”

That was an interesting concept –one that currently seemed as hazy as her body and mind felt.

“Okay,” Rose heard herself saying, but that simple word sounded more like a question than an affirmation, even to her.

“We have a new type of subcutaneous implant that is virtually free of any side-effect,” Dr. Miller continued. “It can also be modified to fit both male and female biology, if that’s something you and your partner want to discuss.”

“Partners.”

The word slipped out, and the warmth in her cheeks went up a notch. It merely caused the other woman to blink, though; this _was_ the fiftieth century, after all.

“Do you think they might be interested in getting a contraceptive implant?”

Her heart was beating too fast again, her whole body too heavy, her extremities tingling.

“I dunno…” she breathed out. “I don’t even know if they – ”

She stopped talking, unable to finish that thought.

She truly _did not know_ where any of them were standing. It wasn’t that far stretched for her to imagine she and her part-human Doctor would have more ‘sexual intercourse’, if he wasn’t too put off by what had just happened.

Or by the fact that she was also involved with his counterpart, now.

Who may or may not have sex with her, too…if _he_ wasn’t too put off by what had just happened.

In other words, she was absolutely unprepared for this.

“Are you all right?”

Dr. Miller’s tone had gone from kindly professional to kindly caring, her brow creased with worry lines.

For some reason, this stranger asking her if she was okay unleashed something in her, her eyes suddenly burning furiously, and before she could do anything about it, a few tears were seeping out.

Rose wiped them off with a frustrated sigh, shaking her head.

“Sorry,” she said, shakily. “‘m being dumb.”

The other woman was moving, dropping her notepad on a counter before grabbing a wheeled stool, coming to sit in front of Rose. “It can’t be that dumb if it’s upsetting you,” she noted.

But Rose was shaking her head again. “I’m just tired, and overwhelmed.” She sniffled miserably, thinking about her burnt waffles. “Plus I haven’t eaten anything in like, a day.”

Dr. Miller used the wheels on her seat to slide across the room, reaching for a drawer; she pulled out a chocolate bar, quickly skidding back to Rose, handing the treat out for her to take.

“That drawer’s full of them,” she said when Rose hesitated. “Just eat the chocolate.”

Rose did not need much more persuading, aware that she _was_ food deprived by now. She nothing short of devoured the chocolate bar, and within moments, she was already feeling better, her metabolism grateful for the sugar rush.

She also felt rather foolish for getting upset in the first place.

Judging by the way the other woman was back to watching her, Dr. Miller wasn’t entirely convinced that she was fine. It dawned on her that health professionals were trained to be on the lookouts for signs of distress in patients who might need help.

“I really am okay,” she told her, sounding more like it, too. “I just got myself in this really complicated situation. Haven’t figured it all out, yet.”

The other woman nodded. “All right. I’m listening.”

Rose blushed. “I…” She chewed on her lip for a moment. “’m sure you’ve got more important things to do.”

Dr. Miller shrugged. “Right now I’m helping you. That’s pretty important.”

Rose felt a surge of gratitude toward this woman she’d just met. She hadn’t realised until now how much she missed having someone to talk to, someone who wasn’t one of the men she was in love with. They didn’t even know each other, and it was almost better that way.

Trying to explain her situation without sounding crazy wasn’t going to be easy, though.

“I live with these…two men,” she ended up saying, a bit breathless. “And I’m involved with them both.”

Once again, Dr. Miller barely batted an eye. “Are they involved with each other, too?”

That thought was so ludicrous, Rose nearly burst out laughing.

“Oh god, no,” she replied with such vehemence, Dr. Miller actually smiled. “They mostly…tolerate each other.”

The other woman thought about it for a moment. “Are they aware that you’re involved with them both, though?”

Rose nodded. “Yeah.”

“Are they okay with it?”

Rose hesitated.

“Are _you_ okay with it?” Dr. Miller asked, then.

To her dismay and frustration, her eyes began to prickle again.

“It’s just…a lot,” she admitted in a whisper. “But I want to make it work.”

“Have you told them that? Talked to them both about it, I mean, together?”

Rose shook her head, shameful.

“Communication is key, in any kind of relationship,” Dr. Miller eventually reminded her. “Doesn’t matter if it’s casual sex, long term commitment, polyamorous…you name it. It goes hand in hand with consent, from all parties involved, especially when there are more than two people involved. It sounds to me like you’re very confused about what’s going on. And if you’re this confused, your partners are probably confused, too.”

Her eyes burned furiously, guilt clutching at her heart.

“I’m really not trying to blame it all on you, Rose,” the woman continued, kindly. “You just happen to be the one in front of me.” She shrugged a little. “I’m also trying to share some of my wisdom, so that hopefully, it’s the last time you find yourself crying in a doctor’s office, all on your own.”

All Rose could do was wipe at her eyes.

“More chocolate?” the woman offered.

Rose nodded. “Yes please.”

…

As they waited for Rose to come back, the tension between the Doctors managed to reach a new, uncomfortable high.

Nothing, absolutely _nothing_ forced them to remain in the same space, in this convoluted silence; they were aboard a ship with an infinite number of rooms, which gave them endless opportunities to stay as far away from each other as possible.

Yet here they were, the two of them unable to do much beside _pace_ in opposite side of the control room, their body language ridiculously similar, hands in their pockets as they glowered at their feet.

He himself thought that his own reason for waiting on Rose was more than valid, considering he was fifty percent responsible for their current situation.

It took him some time, but the Doctor was eventually forced to admit that his original self hadn’t stayed in the same room to tell him off as soon as Rose stepped out, as he’d initially believed. The Time Lord hadn’t done as much as _glance_ his way since she’d left them standing there, too busy staring at his own feet, lost in thoughts as much as he was.

This lack of confrontational attitude from him was almost unsettling, although not entirely new either; he’d been remarkably willing to listen a day or so ago, when they’d had that talk in the library. It would appear that their compulsive need to bicker like immature children only took over whenever Rose was there, too.

That definitely wasn’t ideal, but it was…progress.

The other man wasn’t staying in the control room to annoy him, or spite him; he was staying here for the exact same reason. Always that same, bloody reason.

He supposed that was inevitable, being in love with the same woman and all that.

The Time Lord did stop pacing, eventually, quite abruptly, too, raising his head to meet his eyes dead-on, startling him.

“I believe we’re even now, as far as obnoxious staring goes. I would appreciate it if you stopped.”

His voice was tense, but he sounded more weary than annoyed.

Unfortunately, the Doctor couldn’t really bring himself to stop staring, as if figuring _him_ out would help him make sense of himself.

The other man sighed, already resuming his pacing, a hand now up from his pocket, ruffling at his hair.

“I’m just…surprised,” the Doctor admitted. When _he_ stopped moving and looked back at him, he continued: “I was fully expecting some kind of lecture from you by now.”

He looked away with a shrug, before tilting his head briskly. “Might have felt the urge to lecture you a little, not gonna lie. Figured it would be counterproductive, though. Things are complicated enough as it is, and we did agree to make an effort with…” He waved a hand between them. “You know.”

He brought that same hand back to his hair, ruffling it a little more, still not meeting his eyes.

“It would also be a tad hypocritical of me to lecture you on your actions, given my recent behaviour on Zuitania.”

The Doctor carried on staring at his counterpart, even when he knew how uncomfortable it was making him – just as uncomfortable as he felt himself whenever he was stared at like this. He couldn’t help it, though, taken aback by how genuine and honest he was being.

He was making a real effort.

“That’s a bit of a stretch, comparing what happened on that planet to what’s going on now,” the Doctor eventually said, having looked away at last. “You did what you did because you got possessed by a deadly virus. In my case, I just…”

He stopped, his turn to ruffle the hair at the back of his head, neither able nor willing to verbally discuss what had happened with Rose.

“Got caught in the moment,” his counterpart finished for him.

He couldn’t even deny it.

He certainly hadn’t planned for things to happen the way they had. When he’d gone to Rose’s room last night, he’d only wanted to apologise, and to make sure she knew how much she meant to him, willing to do just about anything to keep her from leaving.

She’d made it clear that what she wanted was…him.

He would have been a fool to deny her, when his need for her was just as deep. There really hadn’t been much room for rational thinking, on either part.

It wasn’t an excuse, just a fact.

It took the Doctor a couple of seconds to refocus on his original self, frowning as he thought about what he’d just said, especially _how_ he’d said it. He didn’t sound like he was deducing the end of his sentence, or extrapolating.

No. He _knew_ exactly what had happened, in a way that went beyond them being the same man. He’d admitted it before, after all, how he’d seen what he and Rose had been doing or saying while in her mind.

The Doctor did not even need to voice his outrage, unable to conceal the indignation he felt at having his privacy breached like this; _he_ could tell, equally good at reading one another.

“I didn’t mean to look,” the Time Lord said. He even sounded sincere. “I just…”

“You _what_?” he asked, his tone as sarcastic as it was offended. “Got caught in the moment?”

His irritation was contagious, the other Doctor already scowling back at him. “That’s not fair. You know how bonding’s like, how hard it is to – ”

“Don’t you _dare_,” he stopped him at once, his voice low and slightly hoarse.

His counterpart did remain quiet, having the decency to look a bit sheepish; he didn’t seem to have meant this as a jab, but the result was the same.

“I don’t see these things out of malice,” he eventually tried again, quietly. “I just…see them.”

The Doctor was pacing again, unable to reign in his deep-seated resentment over the whole bloody thing. His original self not only got to bond with Rose, he was also using that bond to peek, albeit unconsciously.

His outrage was a waste of energy, though. Rationally, it made _sense_, that the other’s mind naturally gravitated toward Rose’s memories of him because…well.

They were memories of him.

The Doctor stopped his pacing just as abruptly as his counterpart had, a few minutes ago, looking back at him.

“You’re me,” he stated, as if it was an entirely new revelation. “And I’m you.”

The Time Lord peered at him. “How perceptive of you.”

He waved a hand, annoyed. “Not trying to be clever or witty, here,” he said. “Just…processing.”

The other man tilted his head, something close to a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. “Funny how difficult it is to wrap our heads around this simple concept, eh?”

“Hilarious.”

He’d moved closer to one of the coral struts, heavily leaning against it as he looked back at his original self again. _He_ was the one staring, now, and he had to admit it was really unpleasant.

“Rose almost left,” the Time Lord eventually said.

“I am aware of that.”

“I know,” he said with a hint of frustration. “I’m trying to thank you.”

They truly were terrible at this.

“If anything else happens,” the Human Doctor spoke again after a long pause, “if we mess up enough to make her feel like she has to leave in order to protect herself…we’ll have to let her go.” He swallowed hard. “Because we both know she’ll always stay, if we ask her to stay. And I’m not sure that’s fair on her.”

They stared at each other, through all their similarities and differences.

“Let’s make sure nothing else happens that makes her want to leave, then,” his original self said.

He was barely done speaking those words that the TARDIS’s door opened, and Rose appeared at the entrance.

As always, she was a sight for sore eyes, his insides already fluttering at her mere proximity.

She looked better than she did when she’d stepped out of the ship, some time ago, although she seemed taken aback to find them both still together in the control room.

She looked at them in turn, not yet moving from where she stood, at the door.

“Are you all right?”

The way he and his counterpart asked that question at the exact same time was, once again, not entirely amusing, especially when Rose shook her head a little in response.

“It’s time we talk,” she said. “All three of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me at my own characters: YOU MEAN, LIKE, ACTUAL CoMmUNiCaTiOnnNN???
> 
> Hahahaha only took them 125,000 words (and a couple of orgasms). Bless them.
> 
> As previously mentioned, there should be about ~six chapters left, including one last adventury…thingy thing. The part of me that has been using this story has my main coping mechanism this year does NOT want me to write the last stretch of this fic, because that’ll mean letting it go 😭😭😭 Any kind word or encouragement from you guys would definitely boost me up!


	25. Feather Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the Doctors have a much-needed talk, and decide how to move forward with their relationship(s).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really do not like going months without updating a work in progress. But after 24 chapters and over 120,000 words, I was bound to experience a bit of a burnout, especially given the year I had.
> 
> I am also in the middle of transitioning from "classroom teacher writing fanfictions on Saturdays instead of grading" to "indie author trying to publish books" at the moment, which (in part) explains why I've been away. These three idiots will always reel me in, though, no matter what. It was so wonderful sinking back into this story :')))
> 
> I remain humbly grateful for your encouragements and the love you keep sending my way ♥ A huge, special thank you to Deps for all the love they gave me and my writing this past week; this chapter wouldn’t be here without the insane dopamine high I experienced as a result. It wouldn't be here without my BFF Lauren either, my biggest cheerleader, who’s here for me through thick and thin – and to track down my typos!
> 
> As always after a hiatus, I recommend rereading at least the previous chapter.
> 
> On with the feels.

**Chapter Twenty-Five – Feather Steps**

They were back in the kitchen.

Maybe not the best decision, given how their last attempt at having a meal together had turned out, but Rose was way past caring. The chocolate she’d eaten some time ago may have given her a much-needed boost, it also made her slightly nauseous. She needed _food_, and if it meant forcing the three of them back in the kitchen for another round of ‘_how-awkward-can-this-get_?’, so be it.

Both Doctors followed her meekly. When she began clearing up the mess they’d left behind, burnt waffles and all, they helped her without a word. Whatever they’d said to each other while she was off the ship, it seemed to have lessened some of the tension between them, which was a relief in itself.

The silence was unpleasant, though.

Rose did nothing to encourage dialogue as they cleared things up and got more food out; she refused to start the conversation they needed to have until she was properly fed. She went for scrambled eggs and bacon this time, craving savoury over sweet, also trading her tea for coffee, needing the caffeine. By the time she was done cooking their food in near-perfect silence, one of them had put a steaming cup of the blessed dark liquid on the table for her. When she sat down with a plate, the Human Doctor followed suit, taking a seat opposite her, his plate twice as full as hers, his mouth already stuffed with bacon.

The Time Lord Doctor did not join them, standing near her, leaning against a counter, hands in the pockets of his suit. Although she did not look at him any more than she looked at his counterpart, she was very much aware of his prickly stare, just as aware that the Doctor across from her was more focused on her than he was on his food.

She felt better within minutes, with her stomach now full and some caffeine running through her system, her overall mood improving as her most basic needs were finally being met. She was still more fidgety than she liked to be, and a _tad_ nervous about what was to come, but at the very least, she didn’t feel on the verge of a breakdown anymore.

Something had to be done about the silence, though.

“This is freaking me out a little,” she eventually admitted.

The doctor in front of her stopped his chewing, while the one standing by her side tensed noticeably.

“You’re the most talkative man I know,” she continued, before frowning. “_Men_ I know,” she corrected herself, but that didn’t sound right either. She shook her head, dismissing yet another semantic riddle. “I’ve fought the urge to gag you more times than I can count, whenever you really get going with the babbling. Yet you’ve not said a word since we got here. _Neither_ of you.”

It was once again _bizarre_, watching as they both moved in that eerie synchronicity, the same hand going up to pull at their left ears. The similarities quickly diverged, though, as the Time Lord straightened up and cleared his throat, while his more human counterpart pushed his glasses up his nose.

This Doctor was the first to finally speak: “I was just waiting for you to say something, to be honest. I didn’t want to…overstep.”

Her frustration was already flaring again. She knew what he meant by that, but it didn’t make the whole thing any less exhausting.

“I wouldn’t mind some overstepping at this point,” she told them. “Anything goes, seriously, as long as it helps me figure out where the two of you stand, ‘cause right now, I mostly feel like I’m just…pulling at your strings.”

Their matching scowls made it clear they did not like the implication in her last statement, but they didn’t deny it either. They _had_ been rather indecisive, letting her take the lead in most of their recent decisions.

“I get why you’d feel that way,” the Time Lord Doctor spoke at last with a tilt of his head, his voice low and wary. “As far as I’m concerned, I thought you’d want to be the one calling the shots, given your…position.”

She held his gaze, seeing a reflection of her own uncertainty in his eyes.

“That’s fair,” she said, cautiously. “But it’s not enough anymore. I need to know that I’m not…screwing this up, or forcing you into something you don’t want to be a part of.”

He frowned. “We’ve already talked about this.” He sounded more confused by the second.

She shook her head a little. “This is different,” she continued in a low voice. “’s not just about you and me getting involved.”

She looked at the other Doctor, meeting his gaze through lenses, and her insides dipped at the intensity of his stare. She quickly averted her eyes, her cheeks flushing.

“Rose.”

The call came from the Doctor still standing near her, his voice soft. She looked up at him, finding the same softness in his eyes. “I _am_ aware that getting involved with you comes with some very specific…conditions.”

He was trying. He was even being _sweet_.

Yet his words caused her frustration to peak.

“Okay, can we at least all agree to stop with the half-arsed statements?” She looked at them in turn, anything but surprised by their returning scowls. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think they’re helping, at all. Let’s just…_say_ what we want to say, for once.”

“Fine,” the Time Lord said shortly, having averted his eyes. “You two are sleeping together, and I’m aware of it. How was that statement? Is that what you want to hear?”

“I could do without the underlying sarcasm, but yeah, pretty much.”

She looked at the Human Doctor sitting across from her; although he’d been looking at her, he averted his eyes the moment she focused on him.

“Doctor?”

“You two have bonded,” he said, and the hollow in his voice twisted her insides. “I am aware of that, too, yes.”

Any semblance of positive thoughts she may have had fizzled away for good.

“You two aren’t really okay with any of this, are you? With me being with you both, I mean.”

There was more stifling silence, followed by a matching shrug of their shoulders.

Rose’s heart sank to the ground.

“Is that it?” she asked, her voice shaking a little now. “I get that this is a lot, for all of us, but I also know where I stand. This is long-term for me, as far as I’m concerned. ‘_Rest of my human life_’ kind of long-term. I’m trying real hard to figure out if this is even possible, and all you can give me is a _shrug_?”

She wasn’t even trying to hide her hurt anymore; it rang clearly in her voice, the last of her words coming out choked, a sound that finally got them out of their mute stupor.

“I _am_ okay with this, Rose,” the Human Doctor said at once, his voice just as thick. “I’m not going to pretend it’s easy, any of this, but I meant everything I said last night. As long as _you_’re willing to do this, I’m all in.”

Her eyes were prickling again as they stared at each other, but she forced herself not to let her emotions completely take over; he did mean it.

She looked at the other Doctor; his silence did not surprise her. Their bond was much too dim for her to get any kind of reading on how he was feeling, but his inner struggle was hard to miss, from his body language alone.

He did open his mouth, only to close it again when nothing came out, still not meeting her eyes.

“I’d rather you just said it, Doctor.”

Her voice was quiet, almost resigned, already bracing herself for yet another rejection from him, unwilling to think about what it would mean for the three of them, if he did admit to not being able to do this.

He swallowed hard, shaking his head a little. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Just be honest.” She breathed out the words more than she spoke them.

He took in a sharp inhale, before finally locking his gaze with hers. “Do I have a problem with you being with another version of me, one who happens to literally be me?” He shook his head again, not even blinking anymore. “I don’t. Not on principle. I do get it. But this _is_ complicated.”

He stopped for a moment, his next exhale a bit wobbly.

“I’m afraid of disappointing you. Of hurting you. I don’t want to promise you everything’s going to be fine, now, only to screw something up again within the next two days.”

The prickles in her eyes were winning, but she held his gaze.

“I’m not naïve,” she told him, keeping her voice low. “I’m not expecting anything to be miraculously resolved the moment we step out of this room, just because we had a good talk. Yeah, it’s complicated. I’m not asking for promises of a happily ever after, here. And I sure don’t expect you to tell me you’ll never screw up again, ‘cause I can’t guarantee I won’t screw up myself. This is about…communication. About us being open and honest with each other, about making sure all three of us are on the same page, moving forward.”

She extended both her hands, then, one across the table, one toward the Time Lord, standing near her. Her silent request was unambiguous, and they both responded to it, taking one of her hands in theirs.

“I love you,” she said, forcing the words through her constricted throat, looking at them in turn. “I don’t want to hurt you either.”

The warmth already blossoming in her mind was familiar, and soothing, her Time Lord’s wordless response causing her breathing to halt briefly. While his soft warmth spread in her mind, her Human Doctor brought their hands up, pressing his lips to her knuckles, and the look in his eyes succeeded in causing a couple of tears to trickle down her cheeks.

She let them roll, unwilling to let go of them, yet. She sensed the Time Lord’s desire to take her in his arms and kiss her tears away; that vision was so tangible, she almost felt the press of him against her, the graze of his lips upon her skin, reading this exact same desire in the Human Doctor’s eyes.

For a moment or two, Rose imagined what it would be like, if she let them do it…let them wrap her in this tight cocoon of love, with both their bodies against hers, double their breaths on her skin…

Rose released both their hands, aware that she’d not done it fast enough to prevent these thoughts from traveling across to the Time Lord Doctor.

“We all agree, then?” she asked, her heart thumping with hope, and a bit of something else, quickly wiping the wet trails off her cheeks. “Better communication?”

They both nodded.

“Better communication,” they agreed.

Despite their good intention and the relief that came with their verbal agreement, tension remained, between all three of them. It was unmistakable, like a physical presence between them.

“Let’s go watch a film, then.”

Her suggestion alone managed to reduce some of that tension, as they both stared at her, as if _this_ was the thing that made them question her sanity.

“That sounds…random,” the Time Lord Doctor admitted.

She shook her head. “’t’s not random. We need to get better at just…spending time together, all three of us. Time that doesn’t involve running for our lives, you know. Watching a film together just seems a lot less demanding than trying to play a game of Monopoly.” She looked at them as they took her words in. “Meet you in the media room in a few minutes, yeah?”

Before they could find a way to dismiss her idea, she escaped the kitchen.

She went back to her room, changing into something more comfortable. Now that her stomach was full and that most of her anxiety had been resolved, the fatigue from everything she’d gone through these last twenty-four hours was settling in her bones again, from trying to save the Doctor’s life in an infected building, to all of their middle-of-the-night activities…or had it been the middle of the day?

Time made very little sense, right now—nor did her life. All she knew for sure was that she probably wouldn’t make it through a whole film.

She found them both in the media room. Bickering. About which film they should watch.

Their voices didn’t have that nasty edge she too often heard when they addressed one another, though; they sounded more like reluctant siblings than rivals, which was progress in her books.

“Just pick something with lots of pretty colours and a very simple plot,” she told them, putting an end to their dispute.

They did, going for a Pixar picture in the end, one she was fairly certain she’d already seen. Falling asleep wouldn’t happen as quickly as she’d thought, though. When Rose sat between the two of them, she immediately noticed how tensed they both were, despite the TARDIS having morphed the couch so that it could easily accommodate all three of them, legs stretched and all.

She wasn’t even snuggling either of them, merely close enough for each of her arms to be pressing comfortably against one of theirs. She paid little attention to the beginning of the film, regularly glancing from one profile to the other, their jaws equally clenched as they stared ahead in renewed silence.

They were making an effort for her, and yet, even with the film playing rather loudly, with all its dialogue and perky soundtrack, they still managed to make that _heaviness_ between them nearly unbearable.

It was, after all, the whole point of this ‘exercise’.

Rose eventually grabbed the remote, and paused the film. She shifted upon the couch until she was facing them both, kneeling and sitting back on her legs; they stared at her with a renewed matching frown, their lips slightly pursed. Despite the tension, she couldn’t help but smile a little at the _strangeness_ of it all.

She’d spent the last few years with a broken heart, an unshakable companion to her everyday life. For most of this time, getting back to the TARDIS had been more in the realm of wishful thinking than a realistic goal. She could never have envisioned this particular outcome, in which she not only got her Doctor back, she got _two_ of him.

It was overwhelming to say the least. In a terrifying, exhilarating kind of way.

“Do we need a schedule?” she asked.

They stared.

“A schedule?” the Time Lord repeated.

“A _sharing_ schedule,” she continued, unable to keep her face from warming up.

Judging by the way both their frowns turned into glowers, the idea sounded as unappealing to them as it did to her. She waited for them to voice their opinion, though, honouring the agreement they’d made earlier.

“I find the concept restrictive and somewhat off-putting,” the Human Doctor was the first to admit. “But if that’s something _you_ need…then I have nothing against it.” He paused. “Any time you’re willing to spend with me is time I never thought I would get at all.”

Rose’s heart did somersaults at his soft admission, even more affected by the way he was looking at her while saying it. She did look away, eventually, focusing on the Time Lord, who as always seemed more guarded than his counterpart.

“I really don’t want to put it all on you again,” he finally said, quietly, “but you really are the one in the trickier position, here. I do think counting the hours would be excessive, but I agree with…him. Whatever you need, Rose. You set the boundaries. We’ll let you know where we stand.”

For one fleeting moment, she wondered just how far they would be willing to stretch these boundaries for her, once again imagining what it would be like if the two of them were to…

She stopped that thought before it fully formed in her mind. Her face had already gone from warm to _hot_, both men observing her with intent and curiosity.

One thing at a time. They had to get through watching a film together before she would even allow herself to think about this.

“I appreciate you both putting my needs first, I really do,” she told them. “But _your_ needs matter, too. I realised some time ago how important it was for me to spend time with you, separately, and I think I’ve managed pretty well so far. I really don’t want a sharing schedule either, but I was thinking…maybe we could try individual trips?”

They went back to frowning.

“Individual trips?” the Time Lord repeated, something he did a lot, today.

“Like…you know. I go somewhere with one of you. Then I go somewhere else with the other.”

The way they stared at her caused the heat in her cheeks to somehow go up another notch, relieved when she saw the smirk pulling at the Human Doctor’s lips.

“Rose Tyler,” he said in _that _tone. “Are you asking us on _dates_?”

She had to smile back at that, almost timidly. “I s’pose I am, yeah.” Suddenly feeling self-conscious about the whole thing, she waved a dismissive hand. “Just…think about it. We don’t have to decide anything now.”

Not giving them a chance to respond, she pressed the _play_ button on the remote and moved back between them. Maybe it was her imagination, but she was fairly certain they were all sitting a lot more snugly. When she reached out for their hands again, on each side of her, they responded as they had in the kitchen, intertwining her fingers through theirs.

She was grateful for the way the Time Lord Doctor was keeping their bond to a low, background hum, despite the direct physical contact, just as grateful when the Human Doctor’s thumb only circled her skin twice before relaxing his hold, their fingers loosely linked together; both her body and mind were too drained to try focusing on them both simultaneously.

Warm and safe between them, it didn’t take long for her to get drowsy, feeling herself slumping a little closer to one more than the other…forcing herself out of her trance every time it happened, unwilling to favour one man over the other, even unconsciously.

After she half-jolted herself awake for the third time in as many minutes, a strong surge of amused endearment trickled through her mind, realising the Time Lord Doctor had increased their connection.

_Just sleep_, he silently encouraged her, sensing his reassurance that neither of them cared who she ended up drooling on.

Unable to fight it any longer, Rose fell asleep.

…

When Rose’s weight became _heavy_ against him, her cheek squished into his arm, the Doctor knew she was out for good. That was confirmed moments later, when she began snoring softly against his shirt.

Neither man spoke, although the Doctor was fairly certain his original self wasn’t paying any more attention to the film than he was. His mind was racing, had been for a while, now, racing with everything that had been said and agreed upon.

It was an odd feeling, that chasm between peace at having her, and turmoil at everything they still needed to figure out to make this work.

At least they all seemed to agree upon _wanting_ to make this work.

When he looked over Rose’s head and at the Time Lord sitting on the other side of her, he wasn’t surprised to find his eyes on Rose instead of on the screen. There was a small frown creasing his brow as he stared. Something was bothering him—he doubted it was the sight of her slumped against him; they were past that, at least.

The Doctor’s gaze followed his counterpart’s, looking down at Rose’s face. It didn’t take long for him to understand what the other man was frowning about. With her head tilted the way it was, the thin, deep scar she’d inherited from their night in Chicago was clearly visible.

“She didn’t get infected.”

The Time Lord’s voice was low; quiet. The Doctor raised his eyes to look at him, but his focus remained on Rose.

“When that woman died on Zuitania, Rose’s face got covered with her blood, as much as mine did. I was losing it within two hours. She barely broke a sweat.” He finally looked up, their eyes locking. “This kind of immunity goes beyond fast healing.”

The Doctor didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “She took in the Time Vortex,” he eventually stated, pointlessly. “It was bound to have some…side effects.”

The other man stared at him. “Is that all? You’re not at all bothered, or worried, about what it might mean for her?”

The Doctor carefully thought about his answer, ignoring the man’s insinuation that he didn’t care nearly as much as he did.

“I’m curious,” he admitted. “Worried?” He shook his head. “No.” When the other man’s frown turned into a scowl, he added: “It’s been years. If this were to have any kind of harmful impact on her, it would have happened by now. From what we’ve seen so far, it’s been protecting her more than anything else. Whatever traces of Bad Wolf are left in her…I choose to believe they’re benevolent.”

The Time Lord finally looked away, still scowling a little. “Sometimes I forget how skewed your judgment is, from all these traits Donna passed on to you.”

He tilted his head, a small smile on his lips. “Could be worse,” he said, lightly. “It’s kind of refreshing, to believe in the goodness of the universe. You should try it, sometimes.”

For a few seconds, they were completely silent again, their eyes on the screen, unseeing.

“Blimey, I really do miss her,” the Time Lord said, and he sounded as wistful as he felt himself, at the thought of his best friend, his metacrisis twin.

“So do I,” he said in the exact same tone. “We should go back for her, soon. She will – ”

He stopped, Rose stirring between them. They both stared, but she didn’t wake up.

“You should take her to her room,” the Time Lord said, even more quietly than they’d been talking moments ago. “She’ll sleep better in her bed.”

When the Doctor looked up at his counterpart, he’d already averted his eyes. “I’m going to the library,” he said simply. “Goodness of the universe or not, I want to figure out what’s going on.”

He didn’t argue, moving carefully to get Rose off the couch and into his arms.

He was barely out of the room that she was stirring again, and he could tell she was waking up, this time. She didn’t say anything at first, her head tucked under his chin, but she used one of her hands to touch his face lightly, before sliding her fingers through his hair.

“I can walk, y’know,” she eventually mumbled, having shifted her head so that her words came out muffled against his neck. He shivered at the sensation, then shivered again a moment later when her fingers curled more tightly in his hair, and her nails grazed his scalp.

Unable not to, he brought his nose to her hair, nuzzling a little. “Wouldn’t be nearly as fun for me,” he replied quietly, feeling her shivering in turn, letting out a sleepy, contented hum.

When they reached her room, the TARDIS kept the light to a minimum, so that he could carry her to bed without tripping over discarded clothes. Before long, he was putting her down upon the mattress, quickly making to straighten up, having every intention of letting her sleep.

Rose grabbed at his dangling tie before he could move too far, and pulled, easily making him lose his balance. Part-human or not, his reflexes remained better than most; he could have kept himself upright if he’d wanted to, yet somehow, he found himself perched above her, barely keeping his weight off her.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” she asked, tugging at his tie again to encourage his face to come closer to hers. When it did, her free hand reached up and pulled his glasses off, swiftly tossing them to the side.

“I was actually planning on letting you sleep.” His voice was low, almost husky; try as he might, there was only so much he could do, when she was so eager to keep him _here_ with her. “From the way you were snoring earlier, you clearly need it.”

He couldn’t help teasing her, but he meant it, too. While he’d spent a good chunk of time in that kitchen or on the couch thinking about how lovely she looked—when he really should have been paying more attention to what she was saying, he couldn’t help but worry about the circles under her eyes, too, about the paleness of her skin, despite the permanent flush in her cheeks.

Going back to sleep did not seem to be on top of her priority list at the moment, however. When she lifted her head off the bed, just enough to catch his lower lip between her teeth, all of his good intentions scuttled away. His sturdiness faltered, allowing himself to rest more heavily on top of her, something she immediately encouraged by letting him settle snugly between her legs, which she wrapped around his.

He could easily have turned this into a proper kiss, something primal in him _craving_ the taste of her as he pinned her more firmly into the mattress, letting his whole body press her down; he didn’t, shifting slightly to bury his face in the crook of her neck instead, and her scent was just as intoxicating, just as wonderful. When her hand went back to his hair and her fingers curled there, the premise of pleasure trickled straight from his scalp and down his spine, his turn to let out a purring sound into her skin, feeling her shiver in turn.

He did nothing to escalate things, content to be there in her arms.

He understood why it was important for the three of them to talk things through, and to learn to just…spend time together, like she’d said. Nothing would ever equal this, though.

Intimate moments between just him and Rose, where they didn’t even need to say anything, or do anything, simply taking in the feel of the other. Breathing together.

“D’you ever feel like all that talking is just…pretend?”

Her voice had been quiet, but it came out loud in the otherwise silent room.

He wasn’t surprised by the words themselves, but his breathing still halted against her neck. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged under him—or tried to, pinned as she was. “Dunno…” she breathed out. “I just feel like…we say all these things to one another, promise each other we’ll do better, but whenever we try actually putting it all into action…we really _suck_ at it.”

Unable not to, the Doctor let out a breathless chuckle against her skin, the sudden rush of warm air making her shiver so strongly beneath him, it felt more like a shudder.

He loved that her body was so responsive to him, his own body reacting as eagerly; it was so deliciously tempting to push her words aside for the time being…to move upon her instead…to create some of that shifting pressure they both enjoyed so much, make her forget her worries, make her lose the ability to think, lose the ability to _breathe_ as he flooded her entire nervous system with sizzling pleasure, until whatever air that eventually came out of her lungs would do so in the form of a moan that might just sound like his name.

When he did move, it wasn’t upon her, unpinning their bodies instead to come rest on his side, his head near hers on a pillow; he immediately missed the feel of her, but he could look her in the eye, now, and that wasn’t bad either.

“We really are terrible at this,” he agreed, because they were. “But I do think we made progress.” He brought a hand to her face, his thumb trailing her warm cheekbone. “There’s a difference between blurting out as many words as possible in the shortest amount of time the way I often do, and actually communicating. We communicated, today. Even if it doesn’t mean everything is simply going to fall into place. And that’s okay. It’ll take time for us to find some sort of…balance. Some routine that works for all of us.”

She’d mimicked him, a hand up to his face, her nails grazing his short stubble. The conflict in her eyes squeezed at his singular heart. “You really _are_ okay with this, then?”

He’d already assured her that he was, quite a few times by now. He did not need to share a telepathic bond with her to sense her fear. The fear that he might be lying to her, that they _both_ might be pretending, telling her what she needed to hear, making things easier for everyone involved.

He pressed his body to hers once more, his hand fully cupping her cheek. “I really am okay with this, Rose,” he said quietly against her lips, just like he would keep on telling her, every day if that’s what it took to quell her fears. “And so is he.” He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, his turn to shudder when her hand sank back in his hair and _clenched_, tightly. “I love you.”

He said these last three words as if they were all the proof she needed; as if they explained it all.

They did.

…

He could not focus.

The words seemed to move upon the page, as he failed to read the same paragraph for the fourth or fifth time. His inability to distract himself only made his need for distraction that much stronger.

He’d long ago dimmed his connection with Rose, but it’d been too little too late.

He’d let his mind slip into hers as she slept against his counterpart, comforted by how calm she felt, her peace quieting down his own mind for a little while. Even when the other man had carried her away and put an end to their skin-to-skin contact, the bond had remained, but he’d not thought much of it as she slept.

He’d been on his way to the library when she’d woken up, and he’d realised how strongly he still felt her, despite the physical distance. It was the first time since they’d properly bonded that he’d allowed that connection between them to remain so open while away from each other; he’d forgotten how strong it could be. Rose wasn’t even aware of it, yet, as he was still proficient enough to ensure he didn’t overwhelm her with his emotions without warning her about it first.

He himself was definitely aware of it, now.

He’d felt her awaking, too far from her to know what she was doing or saying, but he’d felt her. Felt the strength of her emotions toward this other _him_, as strong as they were when she was with him. He’d felt her conflict and her fears, mixed with hope. He should have put an end to it right there, but he’d been blindsided by it.

He had to lean against a wall as the nature of what came through their bond began to change, heat and pleasure trickling from her mind into his.

He hadn’t lied to his counterpart when he’d said he didn’t _mean_ to peek. He sure didn’t mean to stand there in this corridor, shaking a little as he experienced the echoes of their lovemaking, but the intensity of it took him by surprise, especially since everything she felt was so tightly linked to…him. She still had no idea she was doing it, broadcasting her sensations straight into his cerebral cortex, and he’d had no intention of making his presence known in that very moment.

He did snap out of his trance fairly quickly, dimming the connection almost completely, out of respect for whatever privacy they had left, along with some form of self-preservation, set on doing some serious research, now.

Humans were _not_ supposed to take so effortlessly to telepathy the way Rose had, to the point where she could remain tightly connected to him across a whole _ship_, only half-a-day after their first real bonding experience, and without any practice.

Humans were not supposed to heal from deadly wounds in hours either, or be immune to aggressive viruses.

Research it was, then.

Well.

Some feeble attempts at research, at least.

The Doctor was browsing another volume on artron energy when he sensed her approaching the library. Even dimmed at their bond was, the feel of her as she came closer was unmistakable, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rising, as if the room was suddenly filled with static electricity.

When she appeared at the door and their eyes met, there definitely was some kind of discharge within his chest, a current that travelled from one heart to the other, before twisting his insides, in a way that was not exactly unpleasant.

He straightened up from his half-slouched position over the table, which was covered with books; he’d not bothered with a chair, incapable of sitting still at the moment. When he pushed his reading glasses up his nose, a soft smile tugged at Rose’s lips.

He remembered then that it was something the other Doctor did often, fighting the sudden urge to take them off and maybe stomp on them.

He kept them on instead. If his counterpart could go around wearing his brown suit, he sure was allowed to wear spectacles.

“Is there some new life-or-death situation I should know about?” Rose asked, having come further into the room, leaning her shoulder against a bookshelf. From her tone, he knew she was only half-joking.

He didn’t immediately reply, as always rather distracted by the sight of her. She looked barely more rested than she had a couple of hours ago, despite the healthy colours in her cheeks, and a definite looseness in her body language. Her hair was damp, as if she’d just come out of the shower.

He decided not to answer her question. Not yet.

“You don’t have to do that,” was what he said instead, quietly.

She frowned. “Do…what?”

Unable to maintain eye contact, the Doctor looked down at the table and began gathering the books back, slowly, putting them into a neat pile.

“You don’t have to always come find me right after spending time with him,” he eventually said. “You can stay together as long as you want.”

He carried on cleaning up his mess, eyes down, waiting for her to say something in response. When she remained quiet, he dared a glance in her direction. She hadn’t moved, still leaning against the bookshelf, but the way her eyes fixed him was…intense, creating another one of these tugs right between his hearts.

“I s’pose we can,” she said at last, her voice as low as his had been. “But I’m not sure how I’d get to spend time with _you_, if I didn’t come find you.” She paused. “You don’t exactly come find me.”

Her truth caused the tug in his chest to morph into a familiar ache, and he averted his eyes, ruffling the hair at the back of his head.

“Hey,” she called out softly, and he looked back at her. “I’m not saying that you should. I really don’t mind being the pursuer, here. But I can’t have you thinking I only do it out of some kind of twisted guilt either. I do it because I _want_ to.” Another pause. “I’ve missed you, Doctor.”

The ache was squeezing both of his hearts, now, just thinking about how much he’d missed _her_.

Aware that trying to say what he wanted to say would probably end with him babbling or tripping over his own words, he decided to show her instead, already making his way around the table.

She reached for him as soon as he was close enough, and he responded in kind, wrapping her in his arms, comforted by how tightly she held on to him, her head tucked under his chin, her breath tickling his neck. Despite their skins touching, the bond remained weak, weaker than it’d been at any point since they’d come together, half a day ago.

She noticed.

She pulled away a little, looking up at him with a small frown, her arms still tight around him. “Did you…stop it?” She didn’t really know how to talk about _it_, and he couldn’t blame her.

He shook his head. “I just dimmed it.” _A lot_, he didn’t say. When she carried on frowning, he continued: “Our connection is…” _Overwhelming? Mind shattering_? “Intense.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t expect you to be so receptive to it so quickly, not to mention quite skilful, and I’m – ”

Putty in her hands. Or in her mind, really.

“I think we need to discuss the _do_s and _don'ts_ of a proper telepathic bond, and to agree on our own set of boundaries, before we…properly connect again,” he said, sounding oddly breathless.

She was still frowning, concern growing in her eyes, now. “Did I do something wrong?”

He shook his head. “No, no, you didn’t do anything, not…consciously.” That didn’t seem to reassure her. “I’m the one with the telepathic ability, Rose. It’s on me to show you how to control it from your end.”

The frown was gone, but from the way she was looking up at him, she knew he wasn’t telling her everything. It was so very tempting, to simply give in again and let his mind merge with hers. But his mind was in such turmoil right now, he didn’t want to inflict this on her.

He genuinely wanted to teach her _how_.

“Tell you what,” she said softly, moving her arms from around his waist to circle his neck instead. “I really wanna discuss this with you, but I could use some fresh air. So…why don’t we go somewhere later. Just you and me, yeah?”

There went his hearts again, tugging and squeezing and aching all at once, just from the look in her eyes.

He did not need to be in her mind to know how she felt about him, right in this moment.

Before he could answer, she was pushing herself up on her toes and pulling him down to her, her body soft and warm and all kind of wonderful, just like her kiss, or the way she held onto him.

_I love you…_his mind whispered to hers, allowing this simple, irrevocable truth to travel through their bond.

She only held him tighter.

…

For all intents and purposes, their outing was as close to perfect as any of their trips could ever be.

Rose had asked the Doctor if they could go to a ‘green’ world, set on getting her little Yesook out of the TARDIS’s garden and into real air for the day.

She knew the little critter had everything he needed in terms of food and shelter, having even watched him socialise with some of the wild rabbits that inhabited the garden, but it didn’t keep her from feeling terrible about letting her own social life interfere and neglect spending time with him, this past week or so.

He did not seem to hold any kind of grudge against her, though; when she got down there, he’d whizzed her way with happy little chirps, antennas twirling. He’d quickly settled back in one of his favourite spots against her neck, purring in delight while she cooed a little too much.

The planet the Doctor had picked was beautiful, lush with vegetation, from soft, thick grass that felt like silk between her bare toes, to thin, long trees, adorned with leaves that whistled in the breeze. These sounds were clearly alien, as if hundreds of people were blowing into pan flutes simultaneously, the notes harmonious and soothing, yet it wasn’t like anything Rose had ever heard before.

As they walked through the grass, the Doctor explained how the inhabitants from this planet actually learned to control the trees, having turned the sounds into a language, which they used to communicate across long distances. Rose loved listening to him even more than she enjoyed the humming music vibrating through the air, his voice full of eagerness and excitement at simply being able to share these things with her.

He was more carefree than she’d seen him at any point since she’d been back, clearly allowing himself to simply be in the moment for once. If not for the over excited Yesook rolling in wide circles in the grass around them, they could as well have gone back in time. Back to these first few weeks following his regeneration, when all they did was enjoy each other’s company, as they travelled from planet to planet without a care in the world.

She was on an _alien_ planet with the man she loved, their hands clasped together—everything she’d fought hard to get back to, their dim bond confirming that the Doctor was genuinely enjoying himself. And yet, no matter how wondrous this all was, there was something missing.

Or rather, someone.

She did her best to ignore the feeling and focus solely on the man she was with, which was the _whole_ _point_ of them doing this. The Doctor had to be aware of it by now, unable to hide much from him, but he didn’t say anything about it; whatever his feelings were about this, she had no doubt he was concealing them.

He was still keeping their connection dimmed, but she didn’t push the subject, respecting the fact that he may be feeling a little overwhelmed, and simply needed to take things more slowly.

The area they were in seemed to be devoid of any large cities, walking through small clusters of habitations. The local residents paid them no mind, going about their business. They were about a foot taller than Earth humans, with beautiful dark skin and silver eyes, communicating through musical sounds as much as they were communicating through words.

They eventually stopped in one of these local clusters for food, eating a dish made of some kind of sweet fruits, watching as their Yesook attracted a small crowd of children, sitting together on his spread coat, just like old times. Rose didn’t know who was more excited about the encounter, the children or the Yesook. The little ball of fluff was making a show of puffing up his multicoloured fur and zigzagging between all of their legs, the kids squealing and laughing in delight.

Unsurprisingly, the scene brought Tony forth in Rose’s mind, another _someone_ she missed. That ache was a lot stronger, as she wouldn’t be seeing her brother again when she got back on the TARDIS.

“Thank you.”

His voice pulled her out of her brief melancholy, looking away from the scene to meet his gaze.

“For making the choice you made,” he continued, quietly. “You gave up your family to stay with me. With us.”

He obviously didn’t need to touch her to know what had been going through her mind as she watched the children. The sincerity in his tone and in his eyes squeezed at her heart.

“I made that choice a long time ago, Doctor,” she reminded him softly.

When she reached out for his hand, he intertwined their fingers, and let his gratitude seep under her skin. She missed her family, always would. But this was the life she’d chosen for herself. The man she’d chosen.

Or, one of the two, at least.

She felt another pang at the thought of her Human Doctor, alone on their ship; she averted her eyes, even as she knew some of her emotions were passing through their bond. The intensity of how much she missed the other Doctor made little sense; this was an _outing_. They would all be back together in a few hours, and the man himself had assured her he was fine with staying behind when she’d told him she wanted to try one of these ‘individual trips’ with his counterpart.

It still didn’t feel right.

“It feels odd to me, too.”

Once again, his voice brought her eyes back to him; his focus was on the small group of children. Judging by his small scowl, he wasn’t too happy about the admission.

“It does?” she asked, cautiously. “Is it…because you’re feeling what ‘m feeling?”

He shook his head. “I suspect it has more to do with the whole ‘he is me and I am him’ concept. I keep hearing this voice in my head, asking me how I’d feel if our roles were reversed, and he was out there with you while I was left behind.” He turned his head, meeting her eyes. “You really are a terrible influence on me, Rose Tyler. Teaching me empathy and self-love.”

She had to smile softly, squeezing his fingers a little tighter. “I’m happy to take some of the credit for the self-love. You were always empathetic, though, even when you tried hiding it.”

She sensed his surge of emotions, saw it all in his eyes, as he brought their hands up and pressed his lips to her knuckles. She was unable not to remember the other Doctor, doing the same thing, not so long ago.

“Let’s fix this, then,” the Doctor said against her skin.

…

As a matter of fact, the Doctor _was_ fine about being left alone aboard the TARDIS.

He had squeezed his entire body below the grating of the control room to do some maintenance because he was fine.

Absolutely fine.

For a while, he’d toyed with the idea of mirroring his counterpart and going to the library to do some research of his own. He’d been way too restless to be able to read anything, though, hence choosing the good old ‘TARDIS Unnecessary Maintenance’ distraction instead, scorning himself regularly for his not-entirely-positive thought pattern.

They were past either of them feeling any kind of jealousy over Rose spending time with the other, after everything that had been said and done. And he’d spent quite a fair amount of time with her, too; when he’d woken up earlier, he’d been thrilled to find her back in bed with him, finally properly asleep…a proximity that had eventually led to more lovemaking, the lazy, wondrous kind, at which point he began thinking his life expectancy in this new body might not be as long as he’d hoped, as he was bound to perish from the sweet ecstasy of it all.

When she’d mentioned this outing, afterwards, telling him how she’d like to go somewhere with his original self—_just_ his original self, his brain had been so full of endorphins that he’d _smiled_ while telling her it was fine by him.

He’d long come down from his chemical high, now, left all alone with his thoughts instead, tinkering his ship in the hope that the distraction would be enough to keep his self-doubt at bay. He wasn’t being very successful.

How easy it was, to fall back into old patterns, nasty voices whispering that he _knew_ why she’d chosen the Time Lord Doctor over him, the hybrid, for this ‘individual trip’.

“Doctor?”

He nearly electrocuted himself at the sound of her voice, the sudden shock causing him to press down on his screwdriver, zapping the circuits he’d been working on. There was some smoke, a few swear words, and a hot sensation near one of his eyebrows, but overall, the damage was minimum.

He wiggled out of his hole, until he was standing shoulder deep in it, staring up at Rose, who was crouched in front of him.

She stared at his itchy eyebrow with a bit of a worried frown. “Everything’s okay?”

He rubbed at that spot above his glasses. “You surprised me. I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

There was a small smile on her lips, now. “We came back for you.” She said it matter-of-factly, as if it made perfect sense. “Care to join us?”

It really did not make sense. From the suggestion to the ‘_we_’.

Forcing himself to look away from the lovely human in front of him, he scanned their surroundings, only now noticing his original self, leaning against the door jamb at the entrance of their ship, hands in the pockets of his coat.

He quickly focused back on Rose, who’d just brought her thumb to her lips. She didn’t nibble on her nail the way she often did when distressed, though.

She used the tip of her tongue to wet her finger instead, using it to rub off what he assumed was a scorched mark above his eyebrow.

“What happened to individual trips?”

Although he kept his voice levelled and casual, his heart was still beating too fast.

Rose shrugged, but the way she stared at him was anything but dismissive when she said: “I’m putting them on hold. Right now, I want you both out there with me.” She paused, searching his gaze. “Is that okay?”

Unable not to, the Doctor looked across the room to where his counterpart still stood, meeting his eyes. The man gave the smallest of nod, something resembling a smirk tugging at his lips.

When he looked back at Rose, she was smiling, too, her fingers wriggling in invitation.

The Doctor grinned, and took her hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this big baby as much as I enjoyed writing it. I honestly don't know when the next chapter will come, as I really am serious about the indie author thing, which means I've had to split my focus, but it will come ;-)
> 
> Comments are always _deeply_ appreciated. Stay safe, my lovelies ♥
> 
> (And if you're at all intrigued or interested in reading my original work whenever I do publish it, do feel free to [subscribe to my mailing list](https://mailchi.mp/6ab6fce6ce11/mailing-list-subscription), so you get notified when I do!)


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